“Is that all you’ve got?”
“You’re in a hospital bed. You were just shot. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I think it would help me feel much better to wrestle around with you.”
Her cheeks flame a bright pink, and somebody giggles, and says “Oh, they’re so cute.” I’m pretty sure it isn’t Caleb.
“Stop. You need to rest.”
“Why, am I hurt? You haven’t told me anything.” I could look down and confirm what I think, but I never want to take my eyes off Serena again.
“The bullet barely missed an artery. On top of that, you have two cracked ribs, and a fractured cheekbone. You’re lucky to be alive.” Her lips quiver on the last word.
“But I am.” I squeeze her hand. “And you love me.”
Her eyes go wide. She thought I wouldn’t remember that part, but I do. I held onto that one fact while everything else slipped away. When everything was gone, that one word was there, like a feeling wrapping around my body and keeping me aloft.
“Uh, we should go,” Caleb says, breaking the mood. Not really. I barely remembered they were here.
“Maybe there’s a supply closet we can make out in,” Amelia says as the door closes behind them.
The click of the door seems to jerk Serena back to life. “About what I said—”
“About how you love me? Because you do, and you can’t deny it. You also kissed me, and I fear I was not a very active participant. Perhaps you’ll allow me to make it up to you?”
She bites the inside of her cheek, hiding a smile. “I suppose.” She leans closer, brushing her lips over my swollen cheek, and bruised lips. “When you’re better.” She pops up and drops down in the chair.
I stare at her, mouth agape. “You’re joking, right?”
“Why? Would you like to hear a joke?” She grins.
I can’t help the foolish smile that overtakes me. But my eyelids are heavy, and so is the rest of my body. I close my eyes, relaxing in the bed, content for the first time in my entire life. “If it matters, I love you, too.”
Chapter 47
Serena
“Henry?” I call, walkingaimlessly through the house. I’ve been staying at another one of Liam’s many places for the last couple of days. Liam is still in the hospital, and I can’t bring myself to leave just yet. Not that I have to. I’ve been granted as much vacation time as I need to recover from this ‘ordeal’.
“In here, darling,” Liam’s grandfather calls from the living room.
This room is my favorite. The whole house is my favorite. There are turrets and a pond, and a courtyard with a hedge maze outside. It’s like the princess castle I dreamed of as a child. But I like this place the most because it has life. This is where Liam spent his time living, not just thieving. I can tell by the row of paintings on the hearth—not forgeries, but paintings he actually wanted to create. There’s even the one he painted of me when I was fourteen. I thought I had ruined it when I dropped it, and seeing it again, seeing how much I’d changed from that little girl, made me cry. How did I ever doubt how much Liam cared for me back then? I even found some of his paints and tried to paint him in return, and he laughed so hard he almost pulled stitches when I showed him his Mr. Potato Head representation.
But in this room, Liam has painted a mural of that willow tree that sat directly between our two houses, and I often find Henry here. I wonder if it reminds him of his home.
“How are you?” I press a kiss to his cheek before settling onto the sofa beside him. “Did you take your medicine?”
“I’m fine. You two kids are such worriers.” He pats the top of my hand. “Can’t an old man just sit in peace?”
I grin at his grumpiness. He doesn’t like being looked after, but I promised the doctor I would do just that, and I have been. It’s the least I can do after all I put him through. He got a broken arm and three cracked ribs.Iput this sweet, kind man in danger.
“Stop.” He squeezes my hand. “I know what you’re thinking, and I won’t let you continue down that path. I don’t want to hear any more apologies. You did nothing wrong. I only wish I’d known my son was behind all this back then. Boy, I would have taught him a lesson,” he says, making a fist and pretending to punch the air.
I lean against him, resting my head on his good shoulder and gazing at the willow tree. A tear skates down my cheek. “I was going to say thank you. For saving my life. Back then and now.”
“I’d do it a hundred times over. But I don’t think I did as much to help you this time as Liam did. That boy loves you. You always brought out the best in him, and the man I’ve seen this week”—his voice cracks—“is the man he always wanted to be.”
Another tear slides down my cheek. Lately, the emotions won’t stop coming. I kept them locked up and dormant for years, but now that they’re unchained, they have free rein over me.
