Page 61 of Forget Me Knot

Dad, with tears in his eyes, asks the doctor to join our family in prayer around my bed, thanking the Lord for His mercy in my life, and when everyone says“amen,”there isn’t a dry eye in the room.

But when I open my eyes—or eye—there’s only one person I see.

The room blessedly clears and my head does too. The fog and noise and confusion all just dissipate as every unbearable inch between Dinah and me diminishes. She’s here. She’s real and mine and… she’s crying.

“You’re crying.”

Shaking her head, she tiptoes towards me. “No.” She swipes the moisture from her cheeks but more tears fall in their wake.

“Yes, Polly. You are.” I stretch out my hand as much as my muscles and brain will allow. It’s shaky but finds a steady base when she closes the distance between us and all but throws herself onto the bed, snuggling me like a koala climbing a tree. It’s perfect.

“Chipper was just so worried, ya know?” She sobs into my neck.

“He should probably stay here with me then… until I come home.”

She nods, sniffling and clinging tight to the top of the hospital gown I really wish I wasn’t wearing right now.

“I was so worried. I thought… when that bat hit you… and…” Dinah tries so hard to speak and fails beautifully, crying and kissing her way across my neck, my shoulder, and the spot on my chest where my heart beats just for her.

“I’m fine.” My hand tangles in her unkempt hair at the base of her neck, soaking in the way her sugary scent has obliterated the horrid, stale smells I associate with the hospital. Her presence. Her comfort. Her concern. They’re antidotal. I could walk outta here right now. I could run a marathon. Wonky hands and feet can’t keep me down.

She sits up suddenly, straddling my waist. I send up a sincere prayer that we don’t have a repeat closet situation on our hands, because I think I’m about to get a redo ofseven minutes in heaven.

“Jackson Jones, you are not fine!” she slaps my chest, then winces. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. But…” She smacks me again and kisses my lips once. A peck. Not even close to seven minutes. “Okay. I’m sorry. That was the last time, but I was so worried.”

“I’m in love with you.” The words spill out of my mouth. I’m helpless to keep them in any longer. They might be my new calming words.

I. Love. Dinah.

“I love you,” I repeat, because now that the floodgates have opened, I don't plan on holding back a second longer.

Her red-rimmed eyes widen. “You do?”

“Yeah. So much. Like, more than you love Mrs. Holmes’ donuts.”

“That’s… I love those donuts.” She sighs, cupping my cheeks, careful not to press too hard against the swollen side of my face.

“I know you do, Dinah Belle.”

“Then…” She draws closer. “You should probably know that I am completely in love with you, J. Jones.”

She kisses my lips once. “Jackson.”

Another kiss.

“Jack.”

Another.

“Jacky.”

Her thumbs caress my jawline, a sensation of flawless friction against the shadow of the beard growing there.

“I want any and every version of you. Always. Forever. I love you…” Smiling down at me, her lips curl in the sweet, sexy grin I could never forget. It’s permanently embedded. “More than donuts.”

Dinah kisses me again. One glorious, deep connection. I can’t remember my own name, but I know the truth of every word she just uttered in my very bones.

She loves me. When she pulls away, I’m finding it harder to keep my emotions at bay.

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