Page 90 of Nothing To Lose
A stunned laugh bursts out of me. Then he’s laughing too, and crying, and I’m laughing, and we’re both clinging to each other, forehead to forehead, our tears mixing with breathless kisses.
“He offered me everything,” I say after a beat. “A house. A future. Enough money to fix everything.”
“And you turned it down? What about your mom and Chelsey? That money could have fixed everything.”
“It wouldn’t have fixed losing you.”
He kisses me like that’s the only answer that’s ever mattered.
"Besides, you know they'd kill me if I let you go. There's not enough money in the world, kitten."
“I can’t believe he tried to buy you off,” he says, voice thick. “Tried to make you think I didn’t want you. That you weren’t enough… You're everything.”
We collapse like we’ve been holding ourselves upright for weeks. Like exhaustion and relief finally won out, and there’s nothing left to do but fall. It’s not graceful. It’s not planned. It’s just gravity and instinct and love pulling us down.
We sink to the floor in a tangle of limbs and relief, like the weight of everything finally cracked and we’re piecing ourselves back together in each other’s arms.
In the back of my mind, I know there are other pressing matters. The weight of everything we still have to deal with presses in. The gym is behind schedule. The bills are piling up. The repairs I’ve been putting off for the apartment aren’t going to fix themselves. Talon Valdin’s offer would’ve erased all of it in an instant, but accepting help from him was never an option. Not without selling my soul. Not without giving up the man I love.
I don’t have a plan yet. I’ll have to figure it out. Fast. Because something has to give.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I just want to hold him. To breathe him in. To feel his heartbeat under my hand and know he’s really here.
I thought I lost him. And I can’t let go of that feeling just yet. I can't let go ofhim. Can't stop touching, feeling, kissing, holding…
We lay tangled together on the floor, warm and safe and home.
Eventually, I lift him into my arms and carry him to the bedroom.
I carry him like I’m afraid the world might try to take him again. He doesn't let go either. His arms wind around my neck, face buried in my chest, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
In the bedroom, I set him down slowly, carefully, but I don’t move away. I watch him. His eyes are glassy, lips red from crying and kissing and laughing. He looks wrecked and radiant all at once.
“You’re here,” I say, voice rough.
He nods, brushing his fingers down my jaw. “I’m here.”
Our mouths meet again. There’s no rush, just aching reverence. A promise sealed between us. I sink down with him, my hands splayed at his hips, his chest under mine, the warmth of him anchoring me to the moment. Every sigh, every shiver, is its own kind of prayer.
There’s no hurry. No desperation. Unlike this morning, when it felt frantic and like trying to hold on to something that was fading into oblivion. Just skin and breath and softness. We move like we’re memorizing each other all over again. Like we’re tracing out the shape of forgiveness and home and everything we almost lost.
Later, when we’re tangled in the blankets, breathless and spent, I hold him close and whisper, “You're everything, too. I love you. And I'd give up everything for you. My future, my freedom, my life. Everything."
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me like I’m something special. Then he reaches out, fingers brushing over my chest, right where my heart is pounding against my ribs, and across the script that has become more than just a fighting philosophy.
“You already almost did,” he says softly. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure it wasn’t for nothing.”
31
TYLER
I wake up exactly how I want to wake up for the rest of my life—tangled in his arms. My head against his chest. His breath is steady, warm against my hair.
We stayed like that most of the night, shifting only to pull closer. Every time I stirred, he held me tighter. Every time he whispered my name, I sank back into him like it was the only place I belonged.
The morning light filters through the loft windows, casting a soft glow across the crumpled blankets. I shift to look at him, and his dark eyes blink open.
