For a moment, she resists—that stubborn tilt to her chin that both infuriates and captivates me—before something breaks.She sinks into my touch with a sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep inside her.
"I didn't think you cared," she whispers, gray eyes fixed on mine with a vulnerability that steals my breath. "Not about me."
The confession hits me like a physical blow. I take a half-step back, my hands still framing her face, wings extending slightly in sheer disbelief.
"What are you talking about?"
Her lips press into a thin line, a hint of the old defiance returning. "I thought you were only around for Millie. That I was just... an obligation that came with her."
"An obligation?" The word tastes sour on my tongue. "Is that what you think this is? What I am?"
"What was I supposed to think?" Her voice cracks slightly. "You never said?—"
"I love Millie," I cut her off, needing her to understand. "She could be my whole world."
Pain flashes across Ronnie's features, and she tries to pull away, but I hold firm.
"But I didn't stay for dinner or make surprise trips to your store or help you in that disaster you call a garden because of Millie." I trace the curve of her cheekbone with my thumb. "Can you really not see how much you mean to me, fierce one?"
She tries to look away, her lashes lowering to hide the emotion in her eyes. I release her face only to grab her wrist, lifting it between us. The bracelet gleams against her skin—amber and blue catching the lamplight, the metal threads woven together like our lives have become.
"I bought this for you before I came to see you and found out you were gone." My voice drops, the memory of that empty apartment still sharp enough to cut. "I searched for you for months."
Her fingers curl inward, but she doesn't pull her arm away. "Why did you keep it all that time?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with all the things we've never said. I run my thumb over the delicate beads, remembering how they'd reminded me of sunlight in her hair.
"For a while, I wasn't sure," I admit, the confession scraping my throat raw. "But now I know it's because I could never let you go, and that was all I had left of you."
Her eyes widen, something like hope flickering in their depths before fear chases it away. She looks terrified and confused, like a wild thing caught in a trap. I pull her closer until I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine, my wings curving forward instinctively to cocoon us both.
"Can you not see that I am in love with you?" The words fall from my lips like stones dropped into still water, creating ripples I know we can never take back.
Tears brim in her eyes, catching on her lashes before one escapes to trail down her cheek. "It's hard to, when I've been trying to hide the fact that I fell in love with you."
The confession knocks the air from my lungs. Before I can recover, she rises up on her toes and presses her mouth to mine.
The kiss is different from any we've shared before—not frantic with lust or tinged with anger, but achingly tender. My hands slide into her hair, cradling her head as I deepen the kiss, pouring three years of longing and regret into it. She tastes like mint tea and something uniquely Ronnie that I've craved every day we've been apart.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer as the kiss turns hungry. I back her against the door, my body pressing into hers, feeling the soft curves I've memorized with my hands now yielding against me. My wings unfold fully, instinctively creating a silver-blue canopy around us, shutting out the world.
"Araton," she breathes against my lips, her hands sliding beneath my shirt to trace the muscles of my back. The feel of her fingertips against my skin ignites something primal in me.
I lift her in one smooth movement, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed. The patchwork quilt is soft beneath us as I lay her down, following her down to cover her body with mine. My wings arch above us, the sensitive undersides brushing against her arms as I brace myself over her.
"I've wanted this for so long," I murmur against her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. "Wanted you." And I hope she knows that I mean her heart, her soul, her trust.
Her love.
Her hands pull at my clothing with newfound urgency, and I help her, stripping away layers until there's nothing between us but skin and breath and the truth we've finally spoken aloud.
"Say it again," she whispers, her eyes locked on mine as I hover above her.
I lower myself until our foreheads touch, until our breath mingles and I can see nothing but those gray eyes that have haunted me for years.
"I love you," I tell her, the words no longer a secret I've kept even from myself. "I love you, Ronnie."
28