Page 135 of Heavy

“It was great, thank you.”

“Guess I can’t really fuck up spaghetti.”

We both laugh, and my heart feels like it’s ready to take refuge in his chest.

“I think…” He drags one hand up to my neck, holding me gently. He’s been softer with me at times, but never enough to stop the butterflies from stirring in my stomach. “I’m getting the hang of this.”

“You absolutely are,” I respond quickly, bringing my hand up to wrap around his neck, loving how effortlessly we move together in this simple dance we’re sharing.

His smile is wide, and oh so handsome. “Good. I like making you happy, Cal.”

I take a shaky breath, heat building behind my lids. “I’m more than that. I hope I make you happy too, Ronan.”

He nods, and I drag my hand down to his stomach. His soft hum as he leans down to press his forehead against mine makes me close my eyes, letting happy tears trace down my cheeks. My touch isn’t meant to be sexual, and he senses that. It’s a sign of how far we’ve come, and though we still have a long way to go, I know we’ll make it there together.

“I have something for you,” I say after a moment of silence between us. “I was going to wait until everything was finished here but I feel like I have to show you now.”

I pull away from him, and he lets me go. I rush back to the office, grabbing his gift from the closet where I’ve been hiding it under my winter clothes. When I return, I find him standing exactly where I left him, hands tucked into his pockets.

“I think this is my first gift since I was nine,” he says, turning his gaze downward. That statement would have broken my heart, but he continues, fixing it before it has the chance to shatter. “That’s a lie, you were a gift to me.”

He reaches out for it, and I slowly hand it to him. I want to say I hope he likes it, but that seems so stupid after what he just said to me. I… was a gift? If I hadn’t already been in love with this man, those simple words would have done the trick.

“What is it?” He looks down at the shadow box frame, where our handprints are pressed onto the canvas inside. His is black, and mine is white, perfectly overlaid on top of his. Along with the prints, several feathers rest inside, two glued at random angles, giving it a cohesive feel without being too linear—just like us. We’re anything but perfect, but together, we’re still beautiful.

“A piece of us.”

His fingers draw along the glass, as if trying to touch what’s inside.

“The feathers,” he murmurs.

I smile. “So even inside, you feel free.”

When his blue gaze raises to mine, I can see them turning a slight shade of red. He releases a soft, almost somber, laugh. I don’t think he is actually sad, because he is smiling still.

“Thank you, it’s perfect. But, Cal, I didn’t need this to feel free.” He pauses, stepping over to the shelf above the fireplace, moving things around to make space before carefully placing the frame. When he returns to me, the smile he gives me is the foundation for my life. “You do that every day. You are my freedom. The reason I fight the demons, and the reason I want to survive.”

Both of his arms wrap around my head as I tilt back. My entire body floods with love and a deep need—not just for him, because that’s been clear from the start, but from him. I’ve always longed to be needed in a way that goes beyond the physical, to be someone’s reason for living.

I’ve finally found that in Ronan.

As he gently places his lips on mine, I realize I can never be without him. We could die here in this cabin, and as long as we could haunt the walls together, I’d be content and happy for eternity.

44

Ronan

Mybodytremblesviolentlyas shock sets in. The pain is gone now, and I’m grateful for that.

The scents of fire and gasoline filter into my nose, but it’s not strong enough to suffocate me—not that my lungs are functioning properly anyway. I have no doubt I’ll bleed out before the fire reaches me, but I wish it would hurry up.

Something taps against the floor, and suddenly, feet come into my line of sight. Red heels cover pale skin. It isn’t Calista—she’d never be caught dead wearing those out here. Not just because she’d break an ankle, but she’d never be able to run fast enough in them.

I wish I could have had more time with you, baby girl…

“Such a waste.” I’d never mistake that voice.

Now that I think about it, I remember her in the courtroom. How when they passed judgement and sentenced me to fifteen years, she screamed out how unfair it was. That I should die like her brother did.