Page 110 of Tide Over

I smile as I look down at his curious expression. “We are.”

Mason tilts his head as his brows draw together, and I try to prepare myself for questions I have no idea how to answer appropriately for a five-year-old.

“Weren’t you already?” he asks simply.

A laugh escapes both me and Liam, and Mason just watches us, waiting for his answer.

Liam slips his arm around my waist and nods at him. “Yeah, I think we were all along.”

And when his lips press softly against mine, right here in front of my family, I feel like my heart could burst.

Everything is fuckingperfect.

I sit at the kitchen island, resting my arm on the counter as I carefully begin undoing the Velcro on my splint.

I fucking hate this part.

Liam walks into the kitchen, having just changed into sweats after getting home from Mom’s, and his eyes drop to my arm. I pause as the weight of vulnerability settles over me. I also hate that he has to see this.

“I need to massage the scars every night,” I say, gesturing to the silicone strips and the compression bandage lying on the counter. “Then cover them with these.”

Liam nods and sits on the stool beside me. And I hesitate with the last Velcro closure on the splint. I don’t even like looking at this mess myself.

But before I can say anything, he reaches out and gently takes my arm, undoing the Velcro himself. His movements are calm and careful as he removes the splint and places it aside, and I keep my eyes on him the whole time.

His gaze runs up the length of my arm, over the deep scars across my hand, and the long, thick scar on the underside of my forearm. The skin is uneven, puckered in places from the injury, surgery, and lack of use. It looks fucking hideous.

But when I meet Liam’s eyes, they're steady and soft. “Battle scars,” he murmurs with a small smile. He picks up the lotion and squeezes some onto his fingers. “Tell me what to do.”

My throat tightens as I watch him, feeling more exposed than I expected. “Firm pressure with circular motions. All along the scar.”

He nods, then starts working his fingers over the length of the scar on my forearm first, doing exactly as I instructed. I watch him as we sit here in silence, and his words echo in my mind.

Battle scars.

I glance down at the deep, jagged lines etched into my skin, and inhale deeply. As ugly as they are, they are also a reminder that I survived. And not just this injury, but so much more. They’re proof that I’ve faced my biggest fears, and came out the other side, stronger than ever.

And through it all, I also found the love I’ve been looking for my whole life.

Liam continues to massage my scars, loosening the tight tissue under each one. When he finishes, he places the silicone strips on them, helps me wrap the compression bandage over my arm and hand, and secures the splint back in place.

“Thank you,” I say quietly as I lift my eyes to his.

He nods, then leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “Tha gaol agam ort.”

A breath escapes me as a smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

I know that one.

“I love you, too.”

FORTY

“Hey,”I whisper as I shake Theo’s shoulder, and he stirs awake.

“Hm?” he looks up at me with sleepy eyes. “Do you not sleep anymore?”

I chuckle, glancing at the clock. “It’s 5:30AM.” Then I look back at him thoughtfully. “Is sleep all you do now?”

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