She’s quiet, studying my face. I can only imagine the shit she sees there.

“You took out your IV,” she says quietly after a long moment, staring at the thin trail of blood slipping down my arm. “The painkillers won’t work without it.”

“I don’t need it.” Pain is inevitable. Hiding from it will only make it hurt worse in the end.

“Do you need . . .”

“Mila,” I sigh, cutting her off. I can feel myself getting tired again, but I refuse to fall asleep without her in my arms, where I know she’s safe. “I just needyou.”

She swallows, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and staring down at her hands in her lap.

I think she’s going to deny me, but after a long pause, she nods, almost to herself, before climbing out of the chair and crossing the distance to the bed. She stops in front of me, and I sit up, gritting my teeth and ignoring the pain in my shoulder.

“Mila, talk to me, little devil,” I whisper, chest on fire. Maybe I went too far, and she’s come to realize what I’ve known all along. That she’s too fucking good for me, and she’d be better off without me. She’s still too far away from me for me to wrap my arms around her like I want, so I settle for taking her hand instead. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head.”

“I watched you almost die again,” she whispers, her eyes finally meeting mine and brimming with tears. The sound of her voice breaking makes my chest tighten. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to make you let me go . . . for Bella.”

“Baby, I know.”

She shakes her head, wiping a tear that slips down her cheek. I take her other hand, pulling her closer despite the pain that emanates from my shoulder.

“And I’m sorry you had to kill your brother. I’m sorry it happened in that house, and—”

“Mila.” I search back and forth between her eyes, my heart in my throat. “They say love makes you a better man,” I murmur, brushing the curl back from her forehead. “Loving you just made me fucking ruthless.”

“I . . .” she breathes, and I pull her between my legs, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning my head against her shoulder.

Fuck, she’s really fucking here.

“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to the top of my head. “Every piece of you. Even the broken parts.”

“Fuck, Mila,” I rasp, pulling her to my lap. “Come here.”

She tries to be careful, slipping into my lap, but I drag her closer, cradling her to me. I crush her body to mine despite the burn in my bruised ribs and my shoulder, and she wraps herself around me.

“Please stay.”

I don’t know what makes me say it, but I feel like I need to. The desperation may be from what just happened, or it may be from a lifetime of watching people disappear, but I don’t care. All that matters now is that she’s here.

“I love you,” she repeats, burying her face in the side of my neck and pressing her lips there. A groan of satisfaction rumbles up my throat. “You’re my husband. I love you. Wherever you go, I go.”

That’s all I needed to hear.

“Fuck, I love you.” I press my lips to hers before pulling back and leaning my forehead against hers. “You are my heaven and hell, little devil. My end and beginning. My perfection, and I will spend an eternity creating a paradise for you if you say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she whispers, eyes closed and tears on her cheeks drying. “Always.”

“Always,” I repeat.

I’m not sure how long I hold her, but when she yawns, I realize I’m fucking exhausted too. Whatever bullshit they have me hopped up on is threatening to knock my ass out.

“Nope,” I murmur when she attempts to climb from the hospital bed. “You’re staying here with me.”

“Are you forgetting you were shot?” she cocks a brow at me, all fire, and I fucking love it.

“Got a matching bullet in the other shoulder.” She groans, and I chuckle under my breath, pulling her down to the pillows. As if her body is agreeing with me, she yawns.

“What if I hurt you?” she asks when I pull her into my side. She nestles her head on my shoulder, and I suck in a breath of relief.