“Hey … Buttercup. D-don’t.” His hand wrapped around my nape, pulling me into him. “Christ, you’ll make me c-cry in a moment, baby.” His lips pressed against my forehead. “I love you. I will always l-love you. You’re my world, Cleo.”
His words were a balm to whatever terror held me hostage, slowly smoothing the more he shed his grogginess. My legs gave out, tumbling me into his chest.
He flinched, sucking in a ragged breath, but he didn’t let me go. His arm banded tighter, crushing me with love. “I’m here. I’m still yours.” His voice haunted with pain. “I’ll always be yours. I p-promise.”
I was a mess. He was the one in the hospital. He was the one on morphine and dealing with a brain injury. Yet he consoled me. He was once again the strongest, giving me sanctuary, holding me while I came apart.
“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I c-can’t. I just n-need—”
I couldn’t do it any longer.
For so long, I’d pretended to cope. I’d painted on a mask and acted out the highs and lows of life. But I’d been dead inside. I’d missed more than just my memories. I’d missed this.
This wealth of emotion.
This undying affection.
This unswerving connection.
I’d been so alone. So afraid. And now … I was home.
A sob ripped itself from my soul, opening the floodgates of my tears. For eight long years, I’d never let myself come undone. I’d never undone the tight corset around my feelings to purge and heal. For eight years, I’d fought away sadness as if it was a plague trying to kill me. I couldn’t fall apart because I had no one to glue me back together again.
But here … in a hospital, in my soul mate’s arms, in a country I’d left behind, I jumped off the precipice I’d always clung to and fell.
I fell into sadness.
I fell into happiness.
I fell into love all over again.
And he caught me.
Arthur never stopped murmuring, his croaky voice the best chorus for my shattering psyche.
Tears streaming, I snuggled into him, inhaling the scent of him smothered with medicine. “You’re a-alive.” More tears. More sobs. “Thank G-God, you’re alive.”
He flinched as I kissed his brow, his eyes, his lips.
I wanted to kiss every inch, imbed myself into his every pore so he could never carve me out.
“Life and death don’t mean shit to us, Buttercup. My love for you makes us immortal.” His arm tightened, wrapping fiercely. “I get it. I get your pain.” His kissed my eyelids. “Just let go, baby. Let me catch you.”
More tears poured. I never knew I had so much liquid pain inside me. It all evicted, torrential waterfalls, unable to stop.
Time ticked past but I wasn’t aware.
The door opened and closed but I didn’t notice.
All I cared about was Arthur, his warmth, and his ever-steady heartbeat.
For a while, all I could do was hang in his embrace and sob.
I cried for everything.
For the past.
The present.
For good and evil.
And when I finally cried my last tear, I found completion. Every splintered piece realigned and for the first time since fire licked my skin and cast me from my world, I felt whole.
No more missing pieces. No more holey memories.
Exactly who I should be.
His.
My breathing slowly evened out, my hiccups fading in tune with the heart rate monitor.
Arthur settled into the single mattress, kissing my cheek. “Come here.”
Kicking off my shoes, I climbed into the narrow bed beside him. Tugging me, he helped smuggle me into the sleepy heat of his bed. The heavy thud-thud of his heartbeat soothed me and I relaxed for the first time in years.
“Are we okay?” he whispered finally.
I nodded, rubbing my cheek on his chest. “Better than okay.”
Smiling shyly, embarrassed from my breakdown, I looked into his eyes.
The green glowed with something I hadn’t seen before.
Contentedness.
Gone was the harsh glow that never left. Gone was the rigid hatred in his limbs. He was free—just like I was. Healed and whole, truly living in the moment, not the past or future.
I sucked in a shaky breath. My eyes stung from crying and I wanted nothing more than to drift into a heavy sleep in his arms. But he’d given me safety to heal; I would do the same for him. “You found closure.”
He nodded, the bandages around his head brushing against his pillow. “I did.”
The promise I’d made not to ask what Pure Corruption did faded. I was happy he’d found peace, but at what cost? Would he be able to live with whatever occurred last night?
I looked away. “What happened?”
The words scattered around us like a jury waiting for a verdict. He tensed but his face etched with righteousness. “I did what had to be done.”
I nodded, tracing a crease in the bedding. He murdered them. I didn’t know how to be happy for someone’s healing at the cost of another’s demise—even if they deserved it.
When I didn’t reply, anger decorated his features. “I ended it.”
My heart spasmed. “You killed them.”
Never looking away, not looking contrite or guilty or regretful, he nodded. “I did.”
“Both Rubix and Asus?”