She shakes her head again and by the stubborn set of her jaw, I know I’m not going to get anywhere. Not right now at least. It won’t stop me from trying again later.
“What’s the prognosis?” I ask her with a groan as I settle back against the bed fully.
“You’re so fucking lucky,” she says, her tone almost filled with awe. “There was minimal damage. No organs were hit. They did have to go in and retrieve the bullet, but other than that you’re expected to make a full recovery.”
A smile spreads across my face and I nod. I remember the moment, right before the bullet hit, when I took a step to make sure she was completely shielded. It makes me wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t taken that step.
I’ll never know and it doesn’t really matter.
I did take it. I did protect my woman.
“Dad killed Bobby,” she says the words with a layer of grief that only makes me love her more. I watch her face closely and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. New tears find their tracks over her cheeks when she does.
When she opens her eyes again, the fear and the pain there is so raw and absolute that my heart stops for a second. She swallows hard and I know what she’s going to say before it leaves her lips.
“I was so scared that I was going to lose you, Titus,” her words are a confession.
“No way,” I tell her, steel threaded in my words, “I’m not going to leave you like that. No fucking way.”
She looks at me and something breaks in her expression. I know she’s still worried, I know the fear is still fresh, but I also know she believes me. At least, she wants to.
It’s enough for now.
Ezra slumps over where she’s holding my hand. Her tears hit my skin and my heart fucking clenches. It hurts like hell, but I bring my other hand over and gently stroke her hair, completely ignoring the bite of pain.
“Ezra,” my voice is gentle and she slowly raises her head to look at me. “You’re safe now.”
I hate the words, but I say them anyway.
She nods and her shoulders slump in relief as my hand falls back down to the bed. After swallowing hard she says, “He said he didn’t tell his boss. But we don’t know who that is. It’s not over,” her words are insistent.
“For you it is,” I insist.
“Looks like it,” she agrees and her eyes dart to the side as if she’s unsure if she should meet my gaze.
“Here’s the thing,” my voice is still weaker than I would like it, “you might be safe, but I’m not letting you go.”
Her eyes snap up to meet mine and I realize not all of her worries were about the bullet wound. It was also about this moment.
The moment when she’s safe.
The moment when she doesn’t have to stay.
Did she really think I wouldn’t ask her to be mine and stay by my side forever? Can she really believe that I would accept anything other than yes as an answer?
“What?”
A single word from her lips, but it’s filled with so much disbelief that it stings.
“I’m not letting you go,” I tell her plainly.
No artifice; just truth.
“You’re mine and I’m yours.” The tears in her eyes are different now; they glint with a joy which makes me feel like I could conquer the world even from a hospital bed. “I’m going to make you my Old Lady. I’m going to marry you.”
She gasps and her eyes go so wide and round that she looks like a cartoon version of herself. “What are you even saying, Titus?”
“I’m speaking English, Teach, what is there to be confused about?” I ask her with a smirk, wanting her teasing, wanting her fire.