“Come here, baby.” I climb into bed and move over to make room for her.
“Hetch, I still have a few things I need to do before bed.” Her reluctance doesn’t concern me. She’s fought me every step of the way in this relationship. Why would she stop now?
“Sweetheart, it’s my first night out of the hospital, and I just want to hold my woman, in my bed, with no interruptions.” I pat the bed, encouraging her up. It only takes a couple of pats before she eventually gives in and climbs in with me, resting her cheek on my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper when she settles in and makes herself comfortable.
“For what?” She doesn’t look up, but I can still picture the confused look on her face.
“For not leaving me. For not leaving Kota and Mom, and the team alone in all of this.” I know we have some issues we need to work through, but she was there when I needed her, when my family needed her, and that alone tells me more than what hasn’t been said between us.
“Ahh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I was kind of a mess. If it weren’t for your mom and sister, and the guys, I might have been committed.” Her forced laugh does nothing to take away from the fact she isn’t exaggerating. Both Kota and Fox have filled me in on how hard she took it. Imagining her broken and lost, hurts my heart, so I shake the image away.
“I know I can’t take it away, but I’m sorry I put you through it, Lib.” It’s barely enough, but it’s all I can offer.
“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You were doing your job. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her voice is steady, but I don’t miss the shake in her hand as she brings it to rest on my stomach. Yeah, it’s my job. I’m a police officer, but we weren’t in a good place when I was shot. The last thing she needed was the extra stress of not knowing where we were at.
“Does my job frighten you?”
She doesn’t answer right away, but I don’t panic. The concern isn’t if my job frightens her; it’s if she can handle it or not.
“I’m not going to lie. I’ve never been more scared in my life sitting in that hospital waiting to hear if you survived. But I knew going into this what you did for a living, and the risk that comes with it. What scared me the most was the possibility of never being able to tell you how much I love you.” The room pulses in unmasked tension as I process the words I’ve been waiting to hear. I know she hasn’t left my side through all of this, but she’s been yet to say it and, after the mess I put her through, I wasn’t sure if she was hanging around out of obligation or if she really did love me.
“You love me?” I sound like a *, even to my own ears, but the truth is, I need to hear her say it so badly right now I’d be willing to beg for it.
“I’m so deeply, deeply in love with you, Liam, that the thought of you never knowing how much I loved you, broke me. It shattered me. The only reason I recovered was because you opened your eyes.” Her lips find mine in a kiss which stops me from replying. It’s not soft, or warm; it’s not even comforting.
It’s urgent and forgiving, and by the time she pulls back, I’m so far gone I can’t process if it’s her tears on my lips or my own.
“I love you, Liam Hetcherson. But don’t ever leave me like that again or I will hunt you down.” She wipes my face while I wipe hers.
I don’t answer her with a promise. Because the promise of something so big is too dangerous to lie about, especially with my job. Instead, I hold her against me and promise never to stop loving her. To never stop making her laugh, and to always come home when I can.
Forty-Two
Liberty
“Do you believe in heaven?” The question comes out of left field as we lie together in bed.
“Umm, yeah. I guess I believe there’s something bigger out there.” It’s dark in my room, but the low light of the moon filtering through the window shows me enough to see he’s on his back, not looking at me. Coming up on my elbow, I rest my head in my palm and wait for him to respond.
“I think I saw my dad when I got shot.” His gaze stays locked on the ceiling, but his hand moves to find my free one.
It’s been four weeks since Hetch came home, and while we still haven’t fallen back into old routines, we’re slowly getting there.
“You mean like in a dream?” I press on.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I mean it felt like a dream, but sometimes I think I remember hearing you talking to me. Asking me to come back.” He risks a look at me, concern etched into his brow.
“I’ve heard of things like this before. I mean you were out of it for a few days. Your subconscious can give you dreams like that.” I offer what I hope is some reassurance. I’m not saying he didn’t experience what he’s saying, I'm just trying to understand it.