Page 104 of American Beauty

“The manumea, even when it’s alone, doesn’t stop searching for its mate. Because it mates for life.”

Her chin trembles, and she ducks her head, blinking fast. “You inked our love on your skin.”

“I inked the truth––my undying love for you.”

Her hand stays over my heart, and she doesn’t move for a long time. When she looks at me again, her voice is thick with emotion. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

I slide my fingers along her jaw, gentle. “You were worth bleeding for.”

She leans in, her mouth brushing the ink over my heart, and it hits me—every beat, every thud in my chest, belongs to her.

We don’t speak for a while after that. There’s nothing to say that could top the silence we’ve earned—thick with meaning, heavy with everything that’s passed between us.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m bleeding out. I’m full—of her, of the truth, of the staggering relief that she’s here.

She shifts, her leg brushing mine beneath the sheet, her palm still resting over my heart like she’s reclaiming the piece of me I gave to her months ago.

She lays her head on the pillow beside mine, lashes fluttering as she studies me.

“Something we didn’t talk about earlier––”

I tilt my head, watching her. Waiting.

“You thought we were over, so how did you end up in Charleston?”

“I came to Dallas to see a doctor.”

Her entire body tenses, and she rolls on her side, pushing up onto her elbow to see my face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I roll and face her, smoothing a hand down her back. “I had a consultation with a surgeon about my ankle.”

Her brows pull together, and I can see the concern settling deep. “Has it been giving you more trouble?”

“No worse than before.” Except it hurts like hell right now after fighting with Tyson. I think I may’ve done something to it. But I’m keeping that to myself.

“There’s a specialist in Dallas who’s renowned for repairing Achilles injuries. He says mine didn’t heal right and I need another surgery.”

Now isn’t the time to bring up returning to rugby. I’ll tell her when the time is right. For now, it’s just a surgery that must be done regardless—one step in a long line of unknowns. There’s no sense in discussing the future when I’m not sure yet if I have a chance at playing again.

“When is the surgery?”

“Next week.”

The look on her face sayswow, that’s soon. “Are you going back to Sydney until then?”

“That was the plan. I was already on my way back, but I came here instead.”

“What made you change course?”

She may not like my answer, but it’s the truth. “Our breakup wrecked me. I thought I might be able to move on if I had closure. But I know now how damn ridiculous that is. I was a fool to think I could ever move on from you.”

“How did you find me at the dance studio?”

“I went to Soul Sync. The client specialist assigned to me in Sydney was there. She said I might enjoy the aerial dance studio.”

Magnolia’s lips twitch. “You mean Whitney?”

“Maybe. I still don’t know her name.” I smirk. “Due to that strict-as-fuck Soul Sync privacy policy.”

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