Page 77 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

JOSEFINE

“I’m sorry,” we synchronically say.

“Don’t—” we say in unison. “I—” And again before we go quiet and continue to hold one another.

“I swear if I’m dreaming…” My voice quivers.

“You’re not. I’m right here. I’m right here, Josie,” he whispers against my hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

I breathe him in, sink my fingers through his hair at the base, and drown in the sound of his heartbeat sporadically dancing with mine.

Neither one of us speaks or moves for a while until we both know it’s time we pull back and talk.

I hesitantly retract my arms, but it’s not until I hear the crinkle of paper and catch yellow from my periphery that I pull all the way back. I was too stunned that he’s here, so I didn’t focus on anything else but his face.

“I’m sorry I was almost late. I hope you like them.” He holds out a bouquet of yellow tulips and his cheeks flush. “And this is for you too.” He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a mini notebook.

“I love them. Thank you.” I take them both and my eyes water, but I don’t blink, afraid I’ll break down in front of him. “What’s the special occasion?”

He flashes me a small, boyish grin that makes my heart stutter. “You’re the special occasion. That didn’t sound too corny, did it?”

I smile, holding my thumb and forefinger up, leaving a small gap between the two. “Just a little.” He chuckles, making my lips stretch wider. “What’s the notebook for?”

“For all the things I wanted to say to you but couldn’t while I was gone.

” His eyes glaze with sadness. “I—” He clears his throat and scans the room.

It’s just us; I doubt anyone else will show up.

It’s a little late and it’s a Monday. There’s not usually a lot of people around this time of the day and week. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do because I hurt you and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I want— need you to believe me. What I said to you that night, it had nothing to do with you. I was upset, angry, and embarrassed.” He squeezes his eyes shut as if the memory is playing in his head.

I grab his hand, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. His eyes open and shift to our joined hands. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, because I made you think you don’t make me happy, but you do. Being with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been, but because of that, I felt guilty.” He expels a shuddering breath. “I want to be honest with you. I don’t want to lie or pretend.”

I inhale, not wanting to let myself get carried away with his words despite how loud the voice in my head screams that it believes him.

“Okay, talk to me.” I swipe my thumb over one of his knuckles repeatedly, soothing the tension residing on his face.

“This…” He pinches the safety pin hanging from his chain.

“Was my promise not to kill myself. I wanted to so many times, thought about it so many times, tried but I couldn’t go through with it.

I knew it would devastate Mom, Pen, Angel, maybe even Dad, although now I know it would have.

The safety pin is a reminder that my hurt would be someone else’s if I did it.

I didn’t do it, but my thoughts of it never stopped.

They were there…just biding their time. Until you. ”

I breathe, wanting to say something, but I stay quiet knowing he’s not done.

“My thoughts were still dark, but being with you, talking to you, things were different. I was living and dreaming of a future with you. And that overwhelmed me and made me feel guilty because it meant I wasn’t sad or had thoughts of ending it all.

Being happy with you meant I was really okay.

Being happy with you meant that I was leaving Adrian behind.

And I didn’t think I deserved that; I didn’t think it was fair that I could be happy and he couldn’t.

I felt so ashamed that I couldn’t feel anything but happy because I had you,” he wistfully admits.

“Being with you has made me the happiest and most peaceful person I’ve ever been in my life.

Being with you felt like getting a restart in life.

Being with you made me feel like me again. ”

My eyes water, and my throat tenses.

“Peace? I didn’t test your patience? Stress you out? Take a few years off your life? Your blood pressure must’ve been insane anytime you were around me.”

His lips quirk up, and his muted eyes light up. “No. You electrified my soul. This is the most awake I’ve ever mentally felt.”

“Oh,” I say in a hushed tone, my tears falling before I can stop them.

He cups my face and wipes them away from my cheeks.

I sniffle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m okay, not fine, but I’m okay.” He pauses then adds, “I’m seeing a therapist. I’m working on myself, Josie. I want you to know that I want to get better. I want to be better for you, for me. So no lies or pretending. This is me, how I feel. I’m okay, not fine, but I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I say after I manage to stop the tears.

“Please don’t be.”

“I am because I feel like I made it about myself when you needed help.”

“It wasn’t your job to fix what you didn’t know. Even if you did know, it still wouldn’t have been something you needed to make yourself responsible for,” he softly says.

“I still would’ve wanted to help you, and I still do. I just didn’t know how and that made me mad because you are the one thing I care most about, and knowing I couldn’t help fucked with my head.”

“Can I hug you again?”

“Please,” I whisper. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap me in his arms.

“I want you back, Josie,” he desperately voices. “Tell me what I need to do, what you need, and you’ve got it. Just think about us. Take as long as you need, as long as you want. I’ll wait, but think about us. Please.”

“There’s nothing I need to think about.” I cling to him, and I’m just as desperate as he sounds.

“I want us, this, everything, all of it. I need you. I’m not perfect and I have issues, a lot of them—that I’m working on—but I want to be here for you, Daniel.

I want you to let me in and share your pain with me.

Share what you feel on the good, bad, and in-between days.

I told you once and I’ll tell you again: Don’t hide from me, please. Let me in.”

“Even on the dark days?” His trembling voice drops an octave.

I tug back, leveling my gaze with his amber eyes that fuel my soul on fire. “I’ll love you even on the dark days.”

He gapes at me in disbelief, but his hands tighten around me. “I’m going to need you to say that again.”

My heart careens, and my lips crack into a shy smile.

“I’ll love you even on the dark days. I-I know that’s hard to believe.

I know I’ve never been the most uh, sentimental, sappy, or even loving person.

I know I haven’t shown you enough how much I care about you.

I know I’m shit at expressing myself and maybe you’ll find it hard to believe that I care this deeply for you…

” I pause, wanting to gather my thoughts because I’m rambling, but the words continue to spill out like a broken dam.

“That I feel this intense fire, consuming burn in my body for you. I know you don’t get that, maybe that didn’t make sense, fuck, I’m so nervous right now—” His lips stretch wide.

The corners of his lips could practically be touching the corners of his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Okay.” He flattens his lips, but they roll back up.

“I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”

“No, God, no.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “You sound like the girl I love.”

My heart stops working. I almost heard him say it before, but I thought that was out of desperation to make up for what he said when he was drunk. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. My brain was stuck on sabotaging his words and any moment we had together.

But right now, I can’t find any reason to doubt he means it.

“Do you believe me?” He caresses my cheek.

“I do.” My eyes flutter. “Do you believe me?”

“I do, baby.”

I drop my head on his chest. “I missed hearing you say that.”

“I missed you.” He rubs my back and kisses the top of my head.

“You know, you are loving. Don’t ever feel like you’re not.

I don’t need you to be loud about loving me or do big gestures to show me that you do.

I know that you do, in the way you hold me, how you see me, how you let me in, how you accept me for me.

You are loving, Josefine, and I’m privileged to be the one you choose to love. ”

“Oh.” I exhale a quivering breath and then look down because I don’t want to cry again. How did I get so lucky?

He cups my jaw, tilting my head back to look at me. “I love you, Josefine.”

I melt into his hold, but he holds me steady and firmly. “I love you, Daniel.”

“Can I kiss you?” he achingly asks.

“Why are you asking? Please just do it.”

“Thank fucking God. Come here.” He crashes his lips to mine, and the entire world becomes clear and so fucking beautiful.