Page 43 of Wicked William

As we lay in each other’s arms afterwards, I whisper in her ear, “You saved my life in more ways than one, Maisy.”

She lifts her head. “What do you mean?”

“I know you pushed me out of the way of that car that day. But that’s not the only way you saved me. Before you, I was half alive. I was always so careful, afraid of letting myself lose control. But you taught me to be free, and now I’m whole.”

She kisses me softly and rests her head back on my shoulder. “You saved me, too. I pretended that I didn’t want roots, that freedom was all I needed. But freedom can be its own kind of cage. I want this—to be held in your arms and make a family together.”

She snuggles closer, and I feel so proud and so in love.

“And of course, all the sex, that’s been life-saving too,” she adds.

I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “That’s for sure.”

I was right about the woman on my stoop five years ago. She looks, smells, and sounds like trouble. The best kind of trouble.

---