Page 91 of Rush
I pull her closer. "I'm terrified."
"Of what?"
"Fucking this up, losing you, becoming someone you can't trust."
"Rush, I already trust you."
"You shouldn't."
"Stop telling me what I should do."
I almost smile. "Fair enough."
We lie there in the quiet and I let myself feel it—the stillness, the connection, the certainty that I made the right choice even if it's dangerous.
Because it is dangerous.
Loving someone always is.
But for the first time in eight years I'm willing to take that risk.
Willing to be vulnerable, willing to stay, willing to choose someone over my fear.
Everly shifts and her hand goes to my face. "Stay tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I want you here."
"Okay."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that."
She kisses me soft and slow, then she settles back against me.
And I let myself have this, let myself be present, let myself be chosen.
The choice feels dangerous.
It also feels right.
And right now, that's enough.
12
EVERLY
I wake up with Rush's arm around my waist and sunlight streaming through the window.
For a second, I think I imagined last night, that I'm going to roll over and find my bed empty like every other morning. But his breathing is steady against my neck and his hand is splayed across my stomach, warm and possessive even in sleep.
He stayed. He actually stayed.
I don't move. I just lie there feeling the weight of him against me, the heat of his skin, the solid certainty of his presence.
This is real. Last night wasn't just sex. It was a choice, his and mine, and he's still here.
