Page 90 of Scythe & Sparrow
“The Lovers card represents choices in relationships. And the choices I made nine months ago were the hardest ones I’ve ever had to make. I had to break your heart to save you. I had to leave to love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost. I’m asking you to choose us, Rose Evans. I promise to spend every day doing everything I can to make you happy. There’s no one else I’ll ever love but you. So no matter what you choose, I’m not letting you go. I never will.”
I lower my hand to my side. A tear breaches Rose’s dark lashes and slides down her cheek. She’s staring down at the card again as though it might tell her the future all on its own. Her lip trembles. I would give anything to touch her. To kiss her. But I’m just not sure if too much damage has been done and too much time has passed.
Rose wipes the tears away, but more follow. “I liked your letters,” she whispers. “That one was my favorite.”
Hope soars in my chest, so big it chokes me, yet so fragile I think a single breath could break it. “Mine too.”
“I … I’ve been …” Rose’s voice cracks. I take one small step closer, but she shakes her head and clears her throat. “You hurt me.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“But I know it’s my fault too. I was the one who antagonized Matt Cranwell in the first place. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t done that.”
“No, Rose. I’m glad you did.” She meets my eyes, finally, and it feels like a relief when she does. “I never would have met you otherwise. I’d still be stuck trying to live in a box that I was never meant to be in. That’s one thing that being away has confirmed—that the idea of the life I thought I wanted was just that. An idea. And despite testing it out for a long time, it never fit. The only time anything started to feelrightwas when you came along.”
Though her expression is still troubled, Rose nods. She keeps nodding, as though it’s hard to stop, until finally she tilts her head and shrugs. She shuffles on her feet. Ruffles her hair. It takes her a minute to even glance at me, her damp lashes shining in the dim light.
“So, like … what does choosing you … what does that entail, exactly?”
I can’t help the stupid grin that erupts on my face, though I try my best to subdue it. “I think it’s whatever you want it to be.”
“Well … but …” She shakes her head and looks out to the sea, a crease notched between her brows. “I like cuddling. We’d have to permanently dissolve that rule.”
I take another step closer. She’s nearly within reach. My hand aches with the need to touch her, but I stop myself from moving closer. “I like cuddling.”
“I like PDA. Holding hands and shit.”
“I want to hold your hand.”
“Dorothy only has one bed. I’m not unfolding the sleeper sofa. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“Perfect. I don’t want separate beds.”
“And you can’t keep telling Barbara she has rabies. She doesn’t like that.”
“You have Barbara?” I ask, and she gives me a faint nod. “I thought she was performing with the poodles.”
“There were some …” Rose pauses, her gaze lifting to the sky as she considers her words. “…incidents. With churros. And maybe one or two with the hot dog stand.”
I sigh dramatically, but only to test out her reaction. Sure enough, her eyes slice to mine and narrow. “I won’t tell her she’s rabid,” I say, laying a palm across my heart. “I promise.”
Rose’s arms fold tight across her middle, the card still clutched in one hand. She juts her chin out and blows a puff of air into her fringe. I’ve imagined that exact quirk so many times over the last few months that it feels like a punch to the chest to see it happen right in front of me. “Dani and Renegade totally deserved to winSurviving Love.”
I bite down on a laugh. “I don’t know if I can cosign that one—” Rose levels me with a sharp glare through a film of tears. “Okay, okay. Dani and Renegade deserved their win, even though his made-up name sucked and his actual name is Brian and I’malso ninety-nine percent sure they cheated on that last challenge with the fish.”
“Fair,” she says with an eye roll.
We fall into a long silence as she fiddles with the card and weighs her thoughts. Part of me wants to crash into her and wrap her in a crushing embrace. But I can almost hear the war going on behind her eyes. The fear of being hurt a second time can be paralytic. My circumstances might have been different, but I know the power of heartbreak’s poison. I know that even if she does choose us, it’s going to take time, and maybe a little space to heal. So I don’t ask anything more from her. I don’t press. I just wait as long as it takes.
“I liked that time we kissed,” Rose finally says, and the first hint of doubt creeps into her expression as her gaze finally lands on me and sticks. “We’d have to dissolve that rule permanently too.”
“Thank God, because I fucking hate that rule. I’d like to break that one first, if you’d let me.”
Her mask comes undone as she nods, every emotion bursting through her broken facade. Tears blur my vision as I rush to close the distance between us. I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times over the last nine months, even when I tried to stop myself in case it never came true. The feeling of her damp cheeks beneath my palms. The taste of salt and sweetness on her lips. The warmth of her breath on my skin. Her scent, notes of spiced chocolate on the sea air. The reality of actually touching her is so far beyond what I’d truly let myself wish for. So I drown in her. I press my lips to hers and thank every god I can think of when her tongue caresses mine. Everything inside me that felt misplaced is realignedwhen she wraps her arms around my neck and her body molds to mine, like she was always meant to fit.
“I love you, Rose,” I say when we pull apart and I press my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t have words, only emotion, just a shake of her head. We wrap each other in an embrace. I hold on. And she holds me back. It’s starting to get dark by the time we finally let go, with just enough light to see the path that leads back to the inn where fairy lights line a covered porch facing the sea. A storm of nerves circles my guts. All my medical training, and high-pressure situations, and now this time spent working with some seriously fucked-up people employed by Leander—all that cultivated calm seems to fly out the window when Rose looks at me with her dark, shining eyes. It’s as though the thought of anything to do with her has me reduced to a pit of anxiety.
