Page 71 of The Way We Are

“Savannah?” I ask, certain my eyes are playing tricks on me.

29

Ryan

When Savannah spins around to face me, the trousers I dumped on the bathroom floor of her hospital suite swish around her bare feet. She has my black belt cinched tightly around her waist, pleating the material so much it looks like a skirt, and the watermarks on my white dress shirt aren’t as obvious from the large knot she has twisted in the middle of it. For the ordeal she went through only hours ago and the fact she's wearing my clothes, she looks so unbelievably stunning, I’m certain I’m dreaming.

“How are you here?”

Is she here?

Savannah’s teeth graze her cracked lip before she murmurs, “I snuck out of the hospital. When they wouldn’t let me leave, I found my own way out. I really needed to see you.”

The mirage in front of me sounds like Savannah, and the cheeky glint in her eyes while admitting to her daring escape seems like the Savannah I’ve always admired, but with my mind still in a mess from the crazy sixteen hours I’ve just had, I’m fairly certain she isn’t Savannah.

I stop urging my brain to wake up when Savannah asks, “Are you disappointed I’m here?”

“No. Never,” I reply, not needing time to deliberate. Even if this is a dream, it's erasing the torment plaguing my mind so effectively, I’ll accept a mirage over not having her here at all.

“Are you sure? I can go if you want,” Savannah double-checks, put-off by my lack of excitement. I’m excited as fuck on the inside, but the shock of seeing her standing in my room is stealing my words.

It's only when I spot the thin red rope twisted around her delicate wrist as she sweeps a bunch of unruly hairs from her face do I realize I am awake. That’s the bracelet I placed on her wrist last night. She's here. The girl of my dreams is here.

I’d be a fool not to take advantage of the situation.

Savannah’s breath leaves her mouth in a hurry when I push off my feet. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

After smiling in a way that does weird things to my insides, she nods before matching my steps stride for stride. We meet in the middle of the room, our eagerness to reach one another so frantic, our torsos crash with force.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs when my fingers weave through her silky mane and glide down her face. “For what I did. What I said.”

Her tears are absorbed by my skin when I mash our cheeks together, craving the scent of her skin on mine. If I were still doubtful she's here, all skepticism is now squashed. There's no way I can deny her smell. Rosy. Fresh.Familiar.

Happy I’ve soaked up enough of her scent to last me a lifetime, I pull back to scan every inch of her beautiful face. There was a time yesterday I was worried I’d never see her again, so I’m not going to waste a second getting my fill.

God—there isn’t a word in the dictionary adequate enough to describe her. Perfect. Unique. Striking. Cheeky. Mine—I hope.

Savannah’s ravishing eyes absorb my face just as enthusiastically. Her attentive stare makes my tired eyes fresh, transforms my grimace into a smile, and smooths the worry etched between my brows. She stares at me for what feels like years but is mere seconds before she balances on her tippy toes to seal her mouth over mine.

She kisses me until I once again doubt my sanity, a kiss so perfect I’m confident I’m in heaven. Savannah’s kisses are like wishes from a genie: wicked enough to consume you with greed, but playful enough you’ll risk the burn of your gluttony. I agree with Isaac—anything amassed without effort isn’t worth having—even love. It's the greediest and most obsessive claim to ownership any man has. We seek it; we crave it, but we are also scared shitless by it. That's what makes the challenge even more rewarding.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I didn’t want to die without you knowing that I love you,” Savannah whispers against my mouth, her words rushing out in quick succession.

I take a step back, stunned by her comment.

“I don’t regret saying it. I just wish I had told you under better circumstances,” Savannah admits, mistaking my retreating step as one made in anger.

I’m not angry; I’m ecstatic. But I’m also devastated. Hearing her believe she was going to die...fuck. That utterly destroys me.

“I would have never let you drown, Savannah.Never.”

Savannah giggles. With how much tension is hanging in the air, it should sound foreign, but it doesn’t. It's perfect.

“Did you say down or drown?” she questions, her voice husky with both laughter and tears.

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Both. I said both,” I lie before cupping her jaw with my hands, so I can wipe away her tears with my thumbs.

She's here—she is really here. With me.

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