I almost lost her.
Squeezing her hand, I headed straight into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and started throwing open cabinets, not sure what I was looking for.
“Here.” I went to her, rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “You’re freezing. Get out of these clothes.” And then I turned around, checking the shower temperature. “I’ll run it hotter, okay?”
“Michael,” she said gently, trying to stop me.
But I pushed forward, feeling my stomach roll. “We’ve got towels here for when you get out.” I gestured to a cupboard. “Unless you want a bath instead. I can run one. Maybe soaking would be better.”
“Michael.”
“I just…” I rubbed a hand down my face, trying to find my words. “I’ll just try to find you some clothes. My mom probably has things here that you can wear, so—”
“Michael,” she said louder, reaching up to take my face in her hands.
But I tore myself away, leaning back on the sink and bowing my head, feeling pain everywhere.
Was this what she wanted? For me to be vulnerable and feel the fear I felt tonight?
Is this what she felt for me?
“I thought you were gone,” I said, barely audible. “The water was so black, and I couldn’t find you. I thought I’d never get to you.”
She came up to me, taking my face again.
And I looked up into her blue eyes, knowing that would always haunt me. What if she had never come back up? What would I have done?
I slid a hand around the back of her neck and wrapped my other arm around her waist, taking her lips in mine and kissing her so deep the heat of her mouth filled my entire body.
I could kiss her forever.
Touching my forehead to hers, I ran my thumb across her face, caressing it. “I love you, Rika.”
I’ve always loved you.
She broke out in a smile, tears streaming down her face as she circled her arms around my neck and pulled me in close. I squeezed her tight, burying my face in her hair, never wanting to let her go.
After all the years and all the times when I should’ve known, it took her nearly getting killed for me to realize what she meant to me. For me to realize how ingrained in every moment of my life she was and how she’d always been there, right in front of me.
Her, riding her bike around my driveway when she was five. Her, learning to swim in my pool. Her, running around and doing cart wheels in my backyard.
Her, biting her nails when I entered the room.
Her, sitting next to my mother at every basketball game in high school.
Her, refusing to even look in my direction when I hung out with a girl.
And me, barely able to hold back the smile at the little looks she stole and how nervous she was when I was close.
She was always there, and it was always us.
Trevor made me want to resent it, but it was seeing her with Kai last night that made me feel it. Nothing could shake us. She was mine, and I was hers, and it would never break.
I inhaled a deep breath, finally feeling my stomach unknot. “Did they hurt you in any other way?” I asked.
She pulled back, shaking her head. “No.”
“Damon’s still out there.”
“Damon’s gone,” she stated, so sure.
She took the hem of my wet shirt and pulled it up, over my head.
“How are we going to tell your parents about this?” she said, worry written all over her face. “About Trevor?”
“I’ll handle it,” I told her, pulling her shirt off as well. “I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
And I scooped her up, wrapping her legs around me and sitting on the sink edge, just holding her close.
She hovered her lips over mine, sinking her body into me like she was about to melt. “You really love me?”
I closed my eyes, breathing her in. “I love you so much,” I whispered, tightening my hold on her. “This is where I live.”
Present
WALKING INTO THE CRIST HOME, I gave Edward a small smile as he took my coat and then helped my mother with hers.
She looked so beautiful.
It had been three weeks since she’d returned from the facility in California, and although every day was like a ticking time bomb, I grew more and more relaxed as the days passed that she wouldn’t relapse.
Her A-line black dress hugged her body that no longer looked so frail, and the color in her cheeks made her seem ten years younger. She was looking more and more like the mother from my childhood every day.
I wore an ivory-colored dress that fell to the tops of my knees, and my mother had politely mentioned that it might be too tight for Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t hesitate to let her know that Michael liked looking at my body, and I liked him looking, so there.
She blushed, and I laughed.
“Rika,” I heard Mrs. Crist call.
I looked up to see Michael’s mother strolling through the foyer, decked out and looking elegant and as usual.