Page 97 of Nonverbal

His gaze shifts to the fresh bloodstains on the carpet as he tries to catch his breath. “Told you I would prove it.”

I shake my head. Prove what? You don’t have to prove anything.

He goes to touch my hair but stops because blood covers his hand. I don’t care. I grab his hand and push it against my cheek, flinching from the slick, wet feeling on my skin.

“I love you,” he says. “With no expectations. No way you can’t believe me now, right?”

I scrunch my face and nuzzle his hand. I know you love me. I already believed you. Why’d you get yourself shot? I’d rather get shot instead of you. Knowing you’re hurt feels like I’m dying. Everything in me is dying because I’m losing a piece of myself.

His hand tries to slip away, but I smoosh it against my cheek harder. The blood is gross and sticky, but I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything. I’ll handle all the pain of life, the discomfort, the flu, the bugs under my skin, all the new places the world can throw at me. I’ll handle the entire universe as long as Brody is in it. He’s everything. The steady beat of my heart. The flutters and electricity of an EDM song pulsing through my ears. That deep, penetrating warmth that fills every inch of my body when he wraps his strong arms around me. He’s joy in my chest and sparks up my spine and everything two people can share between words.

I didn’t know. I didn’t know until this moment what I was feeling—that the black hole inside me was an illusion, a distraction to keep me from understanding the dazzling, vibrant, beautiful life that exists on the other side of pain.

I had only experienced the shadows of love, not real love. Not this love. The love Brody shows me in his touch and words and actions.

I didn’t know.

But I do now.

I touch his chest and then my chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. His eyes are hazy, like he just woke from sleep.

I shake my head, tapping my palm against my chest.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

I shake my head again. No. Listen to me. I touch his chest, then my chest. I make a heart by curling my fingers and touching my hands together.

“What?” He closes his eyes. “What is it?”

There’s blood everywhere, and I sob. Why is there so much blood? I put pressure on his wound, which jolts him awake.

“Fuck,” he groans. “This shit hurts. How am I going to do ab crunches?”

I smile through my tears because that is a very typical Brody response. When I kiss him, he tastes like metal. The blood on my cheek found its way to my mouth. I gag, but I keep kissing him. His eyes flutter closed, so I shake his shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” he says. “I’m sure the ambulance will get here soon. Even though Frank already called, I can hear Amber yelling at them.”

I hadn’t even noticed that Amber is now pacing in the kitchen, screaming at her phone for them to stop asking questions and get the fuck here now.

I draw a heart on Brody’s chest, on my chest.

“Hearts?” he asks. Our eyes connect and he finally gets it. The sweetest grin captures his face, and for a second, I’m transported back to the moment we met when he held my gaze for the first time and smirked. The two of us shared a secret understanding then. That was when our connection started. Not from orgasms or sex or any of the crazy stuff from the past few months. Those things simply strengthened our bond.

Our connection began in an everyday, ordinary moment, the way all love happens.

“I love you, too,” he says. “Damn, it feels great to hear you say that. We’ll get through this. I promise. They’ll stitch me up and we’ll sort through the legal bullshit so you can stay here with me. If that’s what you want?”

I nod, but I don’t understand how everything will be okay. He’s bleeding so much. The ambulance is taking so long. How will we get through this?

He covers my hands with his, pushing down on his wound and groaning. “I’m not giving up. I need to be here to keep my goddess satisfied.”

I laugh, though a sob chokes the end. Don’t leave me. I’ll be your goddess. We’ll be everything for each other. Please, I need you in this world.

I rest my head on his chest, still applying pressure to his side. His heart is rapid. Weak. But it’s beating.

Just keep beating.

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