Page 140 of Luck of the Draw

A weak smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he looked at her through lidded, slow-blinking eyes. “I’m here.”

His blinking was slow enough to scare her. “I love you. I mean it, Brennan. I’m sorry it took you nearly dying for me to finally understand that. You have loved me so perfectly and so completely, and I just didn’t understand that or you.” A trembling smile forced itself across her face, and he shakily lifted his hand to hold her wrist while mirroring her smile. Tears in his eyes again. “But I do now. And I love you. I love you…just…beyond words. I just—”

“Brennan!” Constance suddenly wedged herself between Skye and the paramedics. “Oh my darling, you’re okay. I can’t believe you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Mama.” He shakily moved his hand from Skye’s arm to hers. Orson arrived at Constance’s side, and Skye stepped away to make room for him.

After all, Brennan belonged to them. It was their life and family that had nearly been shattered, not hers. Brennan wasn’t hers. She and Brennan could love each other, but they could never belong to each other.

Their time together was dwindling, and their paths were approaching the point of diverging. She had things she needed to do to fix herself and her life, but even after she did that, her history was still written in ink. That was the chasm that separated them. That was the divide that couldn’t be bridged. The dust would settle after this moment of chaos, and Brennan would remain the only son in a family so long-established and wealthy that they might as well be New Orleans’ Royal Family, and Skye would remain the girl from the wrong side of the tracks with a history so sordid that she didn’t even belong in the same room with him.

Their lives and history made it impossible for them to have any kind of future together, but at least they each had a future now.

That future was enough.

It was enough to know that there was a person in this world who loved her. It was enough to be able to love him back. Even if nothing could come of it, and even if love and a few months of memories were all they were able to keep forever, it was enough.

After all, love was all you needed, and Brennan had proved to her thatreallove required nothing. Real love could exist in the world even if you had no ability to act on it.

Understanding that was freedom.

After an entire life of being convinced that nobody would love her unless she bent to their will, Skye could now march forth through life knowing she was loved, but she could also live on her own terms.

Freedom.

That was the gift he’d given her.

36

UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER, NEW ORLEANS

The day after his surgery, Brennan’s parents were still staking out his recovery room while Skye sat quietly in a chair in one corner. His parents intermittently bustled around the too-small space, called in the nurses, mumbled a complaint about something, so on and so forth. While they did all that, Brennan made eyes at Skye across the room. She smiled and blew him a kiss. He lifted his good arm, pretended to catch it, and then held his palm against his chest. Her smile widened, crinkling her nose, and she giggled behind her hand.

Orson groaned quietly as he sat in a chair next to the window, reclining as best as he could against its rigid back. Constance was anxiously flitting about the room again, adjusting the drapes, adjusting the volume on the TV, and adjusting Brennan’s pillows. Skye was still sitting way across the room. And Brennan suddenly needed alone time with her like nobody’s fucking business.

“Hey, Mama.”

“What is it, sugar?” Constance squished his pillow again and reached for another one. “Is this okay? They said you need to keep your elbow supported so it stays next to you like this—”

“It’s all fine, Mama.” He reached for her hand with his good arm and patted it. “I was wondering if I could have a moment to talk to Skye.” He cleared his throat. “You know…privately.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and she uttered a low, “Ohh…”

It was clear she thought he was planning to discuss a very specific version of his and Skye’s future, and he resisted the urge to make a face.

“Yeah, why don’t you and Dad go take a break? I know this room is less than accommodating.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” She crossed the room and patted Orson’s shoulder. “Let’s go, darling.” She approached Skye with a warm expression and kissed her cheek. “You two take your time.”

After they slipped out, Brennan held out his good arm to Skye, and she quietly stood and approached him. One of the nurses had loaned her an oversized black sweatshirt to wear in the freezing cold hospital, and her long, red hair draped over one shoulder. Her face was mostly neutral but bore a crinkle of stress between her elegant brows.

“So,” he began as she sat on the edge of the bed facing him, “it sounds like I’m stuck here for a day or two. I’ve got a spare key so you can get in the house, but I gave it to—”

“I was planning to stay here if they let me,” Skye said quietly as she covered his hand with hers, and he laced their fingers together. “You stayed with me. I want to stay with you.” Her throat pulsed with a swallow. “We don’t exactly have a lot of time left together, and I don’t really want to spend it alone in your house.”

He arched one eyebrow. “Your house.”

She laughed lightly, but it sounded like a nervous scoff. “That’s not my house, Brennan. I don’t really want to think about the circumstances that would force it to be.”

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