Court

fast. I don't know why I'm rushing, don't know what I'm afraid I'll find when... My racing heart slows as I see Grace right where I left her, and I finally admit the truth to myself. The reason I haven't wanted to let her out of my sight is because I'm afraid she'll realize she made a mistake in choosing me. Is it an irrational fear, considering she told me she loves me? That she chooses me, even with everything going on, even knowing what a burden my gifts are? Absolutely. Does that make it go away? Not even close. That's the power she holds over me, the power she'll always hold. Any word on Flint, I ask, as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner and carry it over to her. Nothing on the group chat yet. I try to hand her the water, but when she doesn't take it from my outstretched hand, I walk to the other side of the couch and sit beside her, set the water on the table in front of us. She turns from the fire then, slays me with her wounded gaze, and whispers, I love you, and my heart pounds again. She looks so serious, too serious, and even a little bit desperate, so I do what I always do to pull her out of her own head. I tease her, this time with our favorite movie line, I know. When a slow smile touches the edges of the shadows in her eyes, I know I made the right choice. I reach out and pull her onto my lap, relishing the feel of all of her against all of me. I glance down and run my finger along the promise ring I gave her, remembering the vow I made that day, the trembling conviction in my voice as I said those fateful words, and my chest tightens. You know, she says, pulling my gaze back to hers, you said if I ever guessed what promise you made, you'd tell me. I think I figured it out. I raise one eyebrow. Do you now? She nods. You promised to bring me breakfast in bed for the rest of my life. I snort laugh. Doubtful, you are a brat in the mornings. The first real smile I've seen from her in what feels like forever lightens her face. Hey, I resemble that. Then she laughs at her own joke, and I can't help myself from joining her. It's so fucking nice to see her smiling again. I know, she continues, pretending to ponder alternatives. You promised to let me win every argument? I give a full belly laugh at that ridiculous suggestion. She loves arguing with me. The last thing she'd ever want is for me to roll over and just let her have her way. Not likely. She stills, then, blinking up at me. Are you ever going to tell me? She's not ready to hear what I promised before I even knew she would ever love me back, so instead I joke, now where would the fun be in that? She fake punches me in the shoulder. I will get it out of you one day. She runs her soft hand along the stubble on my jaw, her eyes turning serious again. I have forever to keep guessing, mate. And just like that, I'm on fire. I love you, I whisper, and lean down to brush my lips across hers. Once, twice, but Grace is having none of it. She reaches up and holds my head between her palms, her lashes fluttering across her cheeks just before she demands everything from me. My breath, my heart, my very soul. When we're both breathless, I lean back and hold her gaze. I could get lost in the depths of her warm brown eyes for an eternity. I love you, I tell her again. I know, she teases, repeating my words from earlier. That smart mouth is going to be the death of me, I murmur and start to kiss her once more, thoughts of picking her up and carrying her over to my bed dancing through my head. But she stiffens, and I know my thoughtless comment about dying reminded her, reminded us both of everything we've lost, could still lose. My heart nearly stops when I see the tears filling her eyes. I'm sorry, I murmur. She gives her head a quick shake, like I shouldn't be beating myself up over my slip, but, well, not going to happen.