Something Wilder(85)

He grinned at this, eyes sparkling. “Wow, you are delusional. Two people who ‘aren’t even together’ don’t make love the way we did.”

“Leo, we already talk—”

“I know what we talked about.” He reached out, sweetly capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not giving up.”

Heat filled her chest, and she knocked his hand away again. “You don’t get to decide for me.”

“But you can decide for me?” he asked, but gently.

So gently, in fact, that she was left staring at him in mute shock.

“Anyway,” he said, rolling onward, “I’m not deciding for you. I’ve just decided—for me—to not give up on us.” Unruffled, he tucked his hand back beneath his cheek. “For me, unless you tell me to get out of your life and never contact you again, I’ll be here.” He gazed at her steadily. “Do you want me to get out of your life and never contact you again?”

When she couldn’t pull an answer from the foggy cloud in her mind, he nodded. “Good, because all of those voices in your head telling you that I wouldn’t be happy with you long-term or you’re not worth giving up my life for are just thoughts, Lil. Just because thoughts are loud or constant doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“You left me,” she said starkly. “I know why, but still. You promised before that we would be together forever, and I can’t hurt like that again.”

“Neither of us knew what we were promising. We were kids.” He reached forward, brushing away another tear. “You knew me when I was at my happiest. My mother was alive. I had everything I needed. I’d never known sadness.” His dark gaze held hers. “I have, now. I’m an adult who has lost his mother, lost his twenties, lost the love of his life. My life in New York is soulless. You don’t know what it’s like being with you again.” He stroked her jaw. “You have no idea how alive I feel just looking at you from a hospital bed while I’ve got stitches in my face and a monster headache.”

Lily swallowed, unable to turn away, drowning in watery, sloshing feelings she couldn’t repress. She did know how alive he felt.

“So, are you willing to let me figure out a scenario that works for us, to try?”

“To try,” she repeated slowly. “You mean, to try being together?”

He nodded, humming. “I’m just asking for permission to come up with some ideas to run past you.” He winked playfully. “You can opt out at any time.”

This made her smile. “Well, those terms are pretty hard to refuse.”

“Good.” Leo leaned forward, carefully pressing his bruised mouth to her cheek. “I have faith that we can do this. I love you. You don’t have to say it back. But I do. I love you.”

She stared at his perfect hands and his battered face and his eyes that seemed to see straight through her. It would be a lie to hold it in: “I love you, too.”

His eyes softened and he spoke quietly. “That is great news.”

Finally, she looked down, not sure how to tell him this next part. “They found Terry’s body.”

Leo went still. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t think there’s a problem there. For us, I mean.” She shifted in her chair, reaching forward to fidget with the corner of his hospital sheet. “But Bradley…” She met his eyes again, and her heart twisted at the pain there. “He’s in a lot of trouble.”

Blinking away, Leo fixed his gaze on the beeping monitor. “I’d imagine.”

She bent down, resting her lips on his uninjured temple. “It’ll take some time to get over that one,” she said quietly. “The treasure hunt was a bust, but maybe we get out of town for a little while. Just the two of us.”

At this, he seemed to remember something. “Can you hand me my jacket?”

She looked on the table beside his bed, where his jacket and shirt were neatly folded. Extracting the coat from the pile, she handed it to him and watched as he casually peeled the monitors from his skin. She’d been around his body for over a week; she didn’t know why the view of his torso in a hospital bed was suddenly sending her into wavy, heated territory.

Leo dug into one pocket, frowning when his hand came out empty, then dug into the other. He released a little “Ah,” and handed her a familiar scrap of sepia paper. “Read this.”

She took it, already knowing what it was. “Why are we doing this again?” she asked, worried his head wound was worse than she thought.

“Tell me what you see,” he said, recalling her words from yesterday on the ledge, dissecting the photo of her father. She looked down.

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“Numbers,” she told him blankly.

“Read them.” She glanced at him incredulously, but he only nodded to the paper in her hand. “Humor me. Please.”

So, she recited the numbers: “Seven, six, one, one, one, seven, nine, one, zero, seven, six, five, one, one— Jesus, Leo, how did you get anything out of this?”

“Just finish,” he said quietly.

She looked back down. “Six, seven, two, one, one, one, one, zero, nine, six, nine.” She counted them. “Twenty-five numbers. No spaces.”