Page 212 of Becoming Us

Something passed between us—a click of connection, of absolute rightness, like a puzzle piece falling perfectly into place.

This was it. He was it.

If there was ever such a thing as true love’s kiss, we’d just had it. And he was fucking Prince Charming, bringing me back to life.

“Wow,” I breathed, a laugh catching in my throat, soft and stunned. “Just…wow.”

Atty licked his lips, gaze dipping before landing on mine again. “Can I keep kissing you?”

I nodded instantly. “Yes. Don’t stop, Atty. Kiss me all you want.”

And he did. Again and again.

His lips were warm and unhurried, the soft drag of them against mine leaving a trace of heat that made my whole body ache. His breath hitched just slightly, and I could smell the faint scent of his skin, something sohimit made my chest pull tight.

My hands slid along the curve of his jaw, the roughness of day-old stubble brushing against my fingertips. I found the dip at the back of his neck and held on—anchoring myself to the only thing that felt real, the only place I wanted to be.

We kept kissing until I didn’t know where he ended and I began.

All I knew was that I wanted to do this—with him—forever.

We talked. I tried to warn him, to ask him to slow down. Because if he didn’t, I’d blurt out that I wanted to marry him right now and scare the shit out of him.

And we kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

His hands never wandered. Never asked for more. He didn’t make me feel disposable—not for a single second.

He stayed right there with me. Steady. Present.Safe.

And all those reasons I’d had to push him away? They dissolved. Everything else disappeared.

It was just him. And that was all I needed.

That night, after we fell asleep in each other’s arms, I quietly untangled myself and slipped into the bathroom.

Without hesitation, without second-guessing, or thinking it through, I uncapped the bottle of sleeping pills and let them tumble into the toilet. The water rushed, swallowing them whole until they vanished from sight.

I crawled back into bed and into his arms, clinging to him as I took in his sleeping face. I traced the line of his nose with the tip of my finger, brushed my lips gently over his, and stared at the soft fan of his blond lashes resting against his cheeks.

He didn’t just look like an angel—Atty was one.

An angel who’d fallen from heaven just to save me.

And in his arms, I was safe.

I made him a silent promise then.

I would change. I would be better.

I would become the person he thought I was.

And one day, I would be enough for him.

I promised.

And if everything went to shit—if I couldn’t quiet the voices, if I couldn’t stop myself from turning into her, if his absence kept threatening to swallow me whole—well…

At least I got to feel this before I left.