Page 41 of The Tower

Epilog 2

Libby

Oh my God.Did I really just say that? The words came out before I could stop myself. They jumped over my lips, leaving no time, no room to reconsider.

I mean. It's so obvious. We've been living together for more than three months now. We have already experienced so much more together than most couples do in a lifetime; we've been intimate on so many levels, sharing things with each other that we never shared with anyone else. We've been thrown into a life together that others take years to grow.

And it works. Despite everything, it works.

No. It doesn't just work. It's wonderful.

We had to leave our first little sanctuary in such a hurry that there was no time for me to mourn our departure. But I was sad to leave it behind, thinking that nothing could ever live up to that illusion of peace we managed to build out there.

Luckily, I was wrong. This house, hidden deep inside the beautiful redwood forest that I've come to live during my years down in Northern California, not only lives up to our first safe haven, but it surpasses it.

Here, I've had time to rest, to heal, and to overcome the things that have happened to me.

And Keane was right there with me, protecting me, keeping me safe, and comforting me. It still baffles me that a man like him, a ruthless killer who has been a hired assassin for most of his life, could display such a soft and caring side.

I can tell that he's haunted by nightmares just as much as I am. I am not the only one who needed this time to heal, to come down and recover from living through hell. He needed it just as much, and it's exactly why he prepared all of this and made sure he could hide out here in the woods secluded from everyone else. Surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the forest and the iridescent light shimmering through the branches of the massive trees.

He thought he'd be by himself. A lone wolf, responsible for no one but himself. Bringing me up here was his choice, and maybe one he didn't think through, but I never felt that he regretted it. On the contrary.

And now I told him that I love him. Out of nowhere, as if it was the most natural thing to say.

Because it is. Nothing has ever felt more natural to me.

He looks at me, his expression soft and affectionate, so very different to the look he had on his face during the very first night we met, when the strain of his old life was marking his features.

I don't expect anything from him. He doesn't have to respond, and he doesn't have to reciprocate these feelings. I don't want to pressure him into saying something he might not be ready to say.

And I want to tell him that. I don't want to put chains on this strong, lone wolf, this man who put it on himself to save me, and burden himself with the responsibility for my safety.

But when he reaches for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine while his affectionate gaze rests on me, I realize that I can declare my concerns null and void. He doesn't see me as a burden, and when he responds to my declaration of love, he doesn't do it because he feels pressured to do so. He just gives voice to something that's been there all along.

The words come natural to him. They don't force their way out—they are an airy kiss, breathing life into something that's still flourishing between us.

"I love you, too. Libby."

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