Page 166 of Salto

His eyes widened. “Surgery?”

“Then he said if I do have it and I wait too long to get the surgery, I could struggle to have…” I trailed off, a sob catching in my throat. “…kids.”

He seemed unable to hold himself back anymore, and he closed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms.

I buried my head into the crook of his neck, my tears soaking his sweatshirt.

His arms wound around me, and he held me so tightly. Like he could somehow put me back together.

I didn’t move for a while.

I just let him hold me.

It took several minutes for my breathing to slow and my tears to subside.

When they finally did, he pulled back a little, his hand coming up to brush a tear-soaked strand of hair from my face.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I just—it was too much for me to even process.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I also want a family. And I just never thought I’d have to be thinking about this right now. At twenty-two. Feeling like I'm on some clock. If I do have the disease, it makes me think I need to hurry and find someone to have children with because what if—” Another hiccuping sob left me.

“Shhh,” he murmured, pulling me against him again. “Did the doctor say it was certain that you would struggle with infertility if you have endometriosis?” His presence was firm, an anchor in the midst of my desperation. I hated myself for not telling him everything sooner.

“He said not everyone does, but that I could. Especially if I delay getting the surgery. But even then there's no guarantees. Endometriosis can come back. And ugh, I have no idea if endometriosis is even what’s wrong with me!” I let out a frustrated growl. “Everything is confusing me, and I’m scared, Rove. I’m scared because my body is fighting against me, and I don’t know what choice could make that fight even harder.”

He didn’t say anything, just letting me get it all out.

And then something hit me.

A horrible thought, born from my deepest fears.

“Nobody is going to want me like this,” I whispered. “I’m too broken.”

He immediately shook his head. "First of all, you're not broken. And second, if you end up with someone that doesn't accept you for exactly the way you are, then they aren't the one for you."

"What if I can't find anyone who will love me if I can’t have⁠—“

"Stop," he said firmly. “Stop thinking like that."

“What if no one will love me like this?”

I felt him go completely still.

Then he slowly pulled back, pressing his forehead against mine.

My eyes fluttered closed, and I heard a low sound escape him, like he was in pain.

Then his chin lifted, and his lips brushed ever so softly against my forehead.

It was a whisper of a kiss, and I didn't have time to cherish it before he stepped away.

Releasing me, he walked to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal until his knuckles turned white.

“Any man would be lucky to love you, Scarlet,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You, as you are. Right now.”