She stumbled. One of her crutches tumbled to the floor, and I grabbed her other hand, giving her something to cling to. “I thought I could avoid love so I wouldn’t feel the pain my parents did. But the thing is…I’ve been feeling it every day of my life because I’ve been fighting the one thing that could make me whole.”
I smiled as she cried openly.
“I was so afraid of losing you that I didn’t realise I’d already lost you, and I would rather the pain of burying you than the numbness of not having you. So push me away, refuse to see me, find someone else who is worthy of you. But you have to know that I will always be there waiting. I will always love you because it’s an impossibility not to love you. Love is worth any price—I see that now. No matter how long we’ll have together, I’m strong enough to love you. I’m brave enough to accept.”
My voice thickened as I murmured, “I accept this, Hope. Us. I accept that eventually one of us will die before the other. I accept one of us will be broken and the other will live a half-life until we’re reunited. I even accept that love has the power to lead us back to each other past the grave. I accept, Hope. I finally fucking accept.”
She cried harder, tears glittering like crystals on her white cheeks.
I turned her hands upside down and pressed two kisses to her palms. “Marry me. Accept me just like you taught me to accept you.” I nuzzled into her sweet-smelling skin. “Please, Hope. Marry me.”
Her father grunted, Hope crumpled, and I stayed on my knee with more fear than I’d ever felt.
My last chance.
My final attempt at deserving her.
A breeze blustered through the open door, whistling around my home, cool and warm, quick and calm. Two elements. Two sides.
My hair raised on the back of my neck as familiar whispers filled my ears. A familiar connection to ghosts I held so dear.
My parents.
United in the wind and there for my proposal.
I didn’t care if it was pure imagination. It helped to know they saw me. That they celebrated my change of heart as much as I did and approved of my choice.
Mom had loved Hope already.
Dad would’ve loved her undoubtedly.
She was as much a Wild as I was and had been since she was ten years old.
The breeze died down, and Hope didn’t give me an answer.
I waited for another heart-destroying second before slowly climbing to my feet. Nudging her chin with my fingers, I asked softly, “Well…do you have an answer for me?”
Her gaze locked on mine. She didn’t look past me to her father. She didn’t seek approval or answers. She merely stared into me. Stared and stared and cupped my cheek with a shaking hand.
The moment lasted forever as she read my heart, inscribed my vow on hers, and finally, finally nodded. “I believe you.”
The strength in my legs vanished. I stumbled. “Oh, thank God.”
She gave me a tentative smile. “Want to borrow my crutches?”
I laughed. “Don’t need them. I have you to hold onto.” I dragged her to me, kissing her hard.
With her lips on mine and her acceptance softening my anxiety, my heart knitted itself together in ways it never could before, stitch by stitch, string by string until it was a new heart, an eager heart, a battered, bruised, and wizened heart.
A heart brave enough to accept a marriage, a family…a home.
I groaned into the kiss, not caring that her father was right there. Or that he was about to become my father-in-law. I only focused on Hope—like I would for the rest of my life.
She kissed me back, her tongue tangling with mine, making parts of me clench and swell.
I wanted to kiss her forever, but I also needed to hear her promise. To know she’d heard what I said and understood how deadly serious I was. Kissing her one last time, I pulled away and murmured, “So? You will marry me, right?”
She shivered in my arms, her mouth pink and eyes wide. “Is this real? Are you really proposing? This isn’t just a—”
“It’s real, Hope. I know what I’m asking. I know it includes a wedding and vows and everything else a marriage comes with.”
She studied me. “But do you understand it’s forever? You’re signing on to arguments and make-ups and driving each other crazy.”
“I said I did, didn’t I?”
“Saying it and believing it are two different things.” Her voice might be stern, but her eyes twinkled. “You can’t get out of this. Divorce isn’t something I’ll give you. You’ll be stuck with me.”
“And you’ll be stuck with me. With my overbearing, over-protectiveness. I’ll drive you nuts.” I pressed my lips together. Not sure why I was arguing against her agreeing to marry me when it was the only thing I needed. “Forget I said that.”