Her voice breaks through the tension-filled silence. “I would have said yes.”
And with those words, a lightning bug lands in my hands.
“She’ll say yes,” Grace’s mom gasped. Looking down at the ring, she covers her mouth with her hand, and I smiled knowing that Grace does the exact same thing when she’s surprised. “It’s beautiful.”
Clapping a hand to my shoulder, her father smiled at me as well. “Nothing would make me and Meredith happier than to see the two of you getting married. Of course you have our blessing.”
Her younger sister even began to cry, going on and on about how lucky Grace was. They all surrounded me, hugging me with all their might. It was the perfect welcome into the family.
Replaying the scene on an endless loop in my brain, I make sure what I’m remembering is something that actually happened, that it’s not something I simply willed into existence. Unable to keep it to myself any longer, I turn to her. Her face is blotchy and her breath is still uneven, shuddery with the lingering sobs.
“I remember asking your parents.” My admission makes her face pale. She twists to look at me, saying nothing but seeming as if every word imaginable is flying through her brain. “They gave me their blessing.”
She nods, tears streaming down her face. She continues to cry, but when I reach for her she pushes me away. “I can’t. Wait . . . give me a . . . I don’t know what to . . . it’s all too much.” My returning memories take her breath away, but she loses the ability to speak.
A crazy idea blooms to life in my fucked-up head. “What if,” I begin to question, gathering some courage in the hopes that maybe I haven’t ruined us beyond repair. She shakes her head, as if that will stop me from saying what I need to say. “If I can only remember parts of our past, is that enough? If I can only love you for who we are now, is that enough?”
Tears flow down her cheeks. She shakes her head and pulls herself from the ground. “I need space. I need to breathe and figure this out.”
Without another word, she walks out of my apartment, carrying my heart in her hands.
Is it enough?
Numbly, I walk down his stairs, knowing full well that he can’t chase after me. Thankful for that space, I step into my car, gripping the steering wheel as if my life depends on it.
Resting my head against the cool leather, I take a few deep breaths and manage to calm myself down.
He was going to ask me to marry him.
And then my world broke in half.
Is it enough?
“Is it enough?” I scoff his ridiculous question to no one but myself.
Annoyance and anger war inside me, forcing me from the car.
With renewed determination, I climb his stairs, willing myself to remain as calm as possible. When I look into the living room, I see him sitting on the couch, facing away from me. His shoulders are slumped, the box sitting on the table.
“No, it won’t be enough.” My words fall to his back and he stands up. Dejection fills his face as he turns to me. As I walk over to him, I continue, “It’ll never ever be enough.”
Standing in front of him now, I force myself not to reach for him. Not to kiss him as if my next breath has to come from his lungs. “Every day that I get to spend with you, loving you, it will never be enough. Because I could love you . . .” My ability not to touch him wavers and I rest my hand over his heart. “I could love who you are today, who you were yesterday, and who you’ll be tomorrow with everything that I am and it still wouldn’t be enough.” His heart beats wildly under my hand. Smiling up at him, my anger and frustration dissipates, replaced by warmth and happiness. “I could love you every single day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“But what if I–”
“Don’t remember what we used to be, how you used to love me?” I finish his sentence for him, only allowing him the space to nod. “You don’t get it. I don’t care about what you can remember.”
“You don’t?” His brows knot in confusion.
“I never did. All I ever wanted was for you to let me in now. I don’t care about what your head remembers, only your heart.” Reaching to cup my face, he strokes his thumb over my cheek. Leaning into his touch, I feel like I can breathe again. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for what feels like forever.” Gently, he reaches his other hand up to the other side of my face.
Looking deep into my eyes, it’s as if he’s seeing me for the very first time all over again. “And I’ve been waiting to do this from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Moving an inch closer to me, his warm breath bathes over my skin. The seconds before his lips touch mine are painfully sweet. The anticipation, the want, the need, the desire.
All of it swirls around in my chest, swelling in a sense of love like I’ve never felt. Knowing what his lips feel like on mine, and needing them again as if it’s the first time, it’s the perfect balance of what used to and what will be.
The soft fullness of his lips on mine is a feeling I’ll never forget, but it’s new at the same time. The sparks I’d always felt are still there, but I wait to see if they’re there for him as well. He pulls back and my heart sinks. He doesn’t feel it. My mind races.
“It’s okay. I under–”
My words die on his lips.
His hand in my hair, his lips on mine, his body warm and alive under my fingers—it’s all overwhelming. Pulling back once more, his eyes are wide and vibrant. Resting his forehead against mine, he takes a deep breath. “It’ll never be enough for me either. Not after that.”
“Oh, thank God,” I gasp, before attacking his mouth again. My brain and my body won’t cooperate and I’m clumsy at first. Angling my head the wrong way, not knowing where to put my hands. Wanting to put them everywhere all at once.
And he’s just the same.
It’s the most imperfectly perfect second first kiss ever.
With steps steadier than his, I walk backward to the bedroom. Stopping halfway down the hall, I look up at him, catching my breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t assume. I got ahead–”
“Stop.” His hand tightens on my waist. “Just shut up and keep kissing me. I want you, too.”
A smile pulls at my lips at his demanding nature. It’s comforting to know that hasn’t changed. Nudging the door open with my back, I walk us into his room, spinning us around so that he’s only steps away from the bed. With one gentle push, I step away from him, affording me a few inches of space between us.
Something bold takes over. Courage flows through my veins and uncertainty vanishes. Regardless of what tomorrow brings for us, I want him. Right here and now, I need to be with him. Catching a glimpse of the scars on his arm, I’m quickly reminded that tomorrow is not a guarantee.
And in our case, neither is yesterday.
Sometimes all you have are the minutes ticking on right in front of you.
With those emotions filling my heart, I lift my shirt over my head. Tossing it to the floor in a gentle cascade of soft pink fabric, I’m rewarded with his hungry, wide-eyed stare. Stepping out of my jeans, I let them pool at my feet. Toeing off my shoes, I kick my pile of clothes to the side. In a quick move that leaves goose bumps racing over my heated skin, I get rid of my bra and panties.
Standing naked before him, I don’t know what to expect. His silence is my reward. Rubbing his thumbs over his fingers, he’s on the edge of a decision, literally restraining himself from reaching out for me.
Taking a deep breath, I step within an inch of him. Lacing my fingers with his, I look into his eyes. “You can touch me. Whatever happens afterward doesn’t matter. All that matters is right now.” With a slowness that makes it feel as if time is standing still, he reaches our joined hands up to my breast. When his fingers graze over my skin, my breath gets caught in my throat.
“You’re so fucking soft,” he growls, gently squeezing my flesh. “So warm.”
My head falls backward at his touch, my ability to even hold mysel
f upright nearly gone completely. “I’ve been waiting to feel you again for so long, I forgot how good it would be,” I admit, pushing my breast into his needy hand. My legs wobble just as he wraps his arm around my waist.
“I’ve got you,” he promises, letting soft kisses fall to my neck. “God, I want you,” he growls against my skin, setting loose a fresh river of chills.
“Take me,” I beg. “Please. Take me, now.” Effortlessly, he spins me around and lowers me to the bed. His weight presses me into the mattress and I could happily lie there for the rest of my life. Looking up at me from under his long lashes, he kisses a hot path down the center of my chest. Though I try to stifle it, a soft whimper escapes my mouth as his descends on my tightened nipple. As if I have no control over them, my hands dive into his hair. It’s longer now than it used to be, curling at the nape of his neck. “Oh, God,” I pant, over and over, heavy with need.
“So fucking sweet,” he murmurs against my skin before devouring the other nipple. My body bucks and writhes beneath his. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this alive, so filled with need and passion, I’m afraid I might burst.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he groans in my ear. “I want you so damn much, Grace.”
Clawing at his shirt, I pull it over his head. “Then take me already. Please.” Nearly crying now, I can’t convey to him in words how much I need this moment.
Whatever reservations he may have had are washed away when my hand slides down his shorts, grasping his hard length in my palm. He calls out in pleasure, resting his forehead against mine. “Oh, fuck,” he curses, pushing his body into my waiting hand. Moisture leaks from his tip and I know he’s willing himself to hold back.
Demanding hands push down the elastic waist band of his shorts. His cast gets in the way and as he kneels up to pull them the rest of the way off, he falls to his side, rolling onto his back. Not one to waste an opportunity like this, I climb on top of his hard body.
Hovering over him, I ignore the shaking in my legs. “I need you,” I murmur, lowering my wet flesh to his cock beneath me. Rocking back and forth, I coat him in my wetness, not taking him inside yet. I know I couldn’t handle it. My need is too much, my desire too full.
His wide, swollen crown flicks over my clit with each pass. An electric storm brews low in my belly, threatening to burst into a million streaks of brilliant light, white hot and impossibly bright. His strong hands settle on my hips, pushing me back and forth even faster. “Come, Gracie. Come all over me. Let go. I’ll catch you when you fall.”
Those words are my undoing.
Not because my body explodes into impossibly small shards of pleasure.
But because he’s said them before. Time and time again, he’s promised me that he’d be there for me when I fell.
And here he is.
Holding me steady as my body convulses in a pleasure only he can give me.
“You’ve told me those words before. You always promised to catch me.” My voice is a garbled mess of need and near sobs.
He wars with his words, and rather than saying anything, seals his lips over mine, promising more than anything spoken ever could have.
Before I can catch my breath, I pull myself up, reach in between our bodies, and guide him into my still-spasming core.
“Oh, fuck,” he calls out, pushing deep inside. “I can’t,” he cries, the veins in his neck bulging with his restraint. “Oh, shit, Grace.”
Twining my fingers with his, I stretch our arms above his head. Pressing my soft body against his hard chest, I move back and forth, loving how he grows harder and harder with each push and pull.
Wrapping an arm around my back, he holds another steady in my hair. Locking me in place, he shifts his hips, swiveling them, bringing me right to that delicious edge once again.
Smoothly, he rolls us over, never once severing the connection between us.
In that moment, I realize we’ve never been disconnected. Darkness may have separated us for some time, but it only dimmed our light. It never extinguished it completely.
Resting his elbows on the pillow under my head, his mouth covers mine. His body drives into me, filling me, pulling me into an abyss of pleasure only he’s capable of rescuing me from.
“Oh, God, oh, God,” I pant, clawing at his back. Another orgasm barrels through me, blinding me with its ferocity.
“Gracie,” he calls out. His movements grow more frantic and frenzied, less rhythmic and controlled. “Oh, fuck,” he growls once more, burying himself deep inside of me.
Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is erratic, his heart pounding in his chest. Resting his cheek on my chest, I don’t mind the scratchy stubble one bit.
Combing my hand through his almost inky-black hair, a peace like I’d never known glows around me.
“You’re right,” he says out of nowhere. Rolling from my body, he lays on his side, looking down at me. “It’ll never be enough.” He combs his fingers through the tangled mess of my hair. “Being with you, like that, it’ll never be enough.”
My stomach sinks. My heart begins to crack in half. Preparing myself for the worst, I wait for him to tell me he can’t be with me.
Instead, he smiles down at me, pressing his lips tenderly to my forehead. “It’ll never be enough because I’ll always want more.”
That admission is the first brick of the foundation on which we build our new beginning.
Sitting in my chair on the stage, I look out into the crowd. The faces of the people who have loved me when I was at my lowest smile back at me. The commissioner speaks words about our bravery and dedication, about how committed we are to protecting the life and welfare of the people in our city. But all I can think of is how brave they’ve been.
They were there for me when I was broken, when I was someone who was barely even alive. Tethered to the darkness, they were my beacon of light. All I had to do was open my eyes.
And at the heart of it all is my Grace.
She catches me staring at her and the rest of the room fades away. It’s the exact same thing that happened when I saw her walking down the aisle at the church on our wedding day.
The organ played in the background and our friends and family gasped in awe as they watched Grace walked arm-in-arm with her father. She may as well have been an angel floating toward me in a sea of white and sparkles. I can’t remember much about what she wore, or how she looked except everything was perfect.
Beautiful.
She smiled at me and everyone else ceased to exist. When Walter gave me her hand, a sense of duty like no other took up residence in my soul. I would spend the rest of my living days protecting this woman who stood by my side when I gave her no reason to have faith in me. Holding her hand in mine, I ran my finger over the engagement ring I bought her long ago. When the time came to propose, again, I told her I would get her a new ring. I wanted her to have everything she deserved and so much more. Of course, she wanted no part of that, telling me that her old ring was the perfect mix of then and now. Looking down at that diamond on her finger, she couldn’t be more right about it.
As the priest spoke on about honor and commitment, fidelity and loyalty, Grace smiled at me, a single tear tracking down her cheek. Stroking it away with my thumb, my heart nearly burst when she leaned into my touch.
We spoke our vows and exchanged our rings, mesmerized by the emotion of it all. And in the seconds between the priest saying, “You may kiss the bride,” and my lips pressing against hers, she said, “I told you I’d say yes. Every day, for the rest of my life, I’ll always say yes.”
Brought back to the here and now, the commissioner’s voice booms over the microphone, commanding us all to stand. “It is with great honor and pride that I present to you the newest thirty lieutenants in the FDNY.”
Lost in my own bubble of awe, I’m more than proud of my journey to this point. Getting to this point was not easy in the least. Needing weeks and weeks of retraining, I essentially had to complete
the probie training all over again. Despite having already passed the lieutenant’s test, I needed to take it again. Yet, while some may have been discouraged at needing to begin anew, all it did for me was remind me how much I love my job.
The crowd erupts into a loud cheer, applauding us on our accomplishment. After we’re dismissed from our seats on the stage, I make my way through the sea of families greeting my fellow lieutenants. Camera flashes and words of praise fill the room. As I make my way toward my own family, I can’t find Grace.
“It’s about time,” Ian chimes in as he walks toward me. “I was starting to think they’d never promote you.” He received his prosthetic legs about six months after the attack that forced him out of active service. But his injuries haven’t stopped him from continuing to work. Now, rather than running into burning buildings, he runs marathons, doing charity work for the Wounded Warriors organization. That is when he’s not teaching here at the academy. He never misses an opportunity to rub it in my face that he was promoted before me. Not that it matters, I couldn’t be happier for him. And more thankful for the way he saved my life.
And his own.
I’d say he settled down with Jade, but that woman is far from settling. They’re a perfect balance for each other, a mirror of each other’s humor and strength.
Jade smiles from his side. “Congratulations,” she says, hugging me. “Don’t mind him.” She gives Ian the stink eye and elbows him in the ribs. “What he meant to say was that he was proud of you, too. Right?” She eyes him expectantly.
“Yes, dear,” he responds dutifully.
“Where’s Gracie?” I ask after greeting her parents and my own.
“You have to ask?” Her mother laughs.
“Bathroom, I assume.”
“I swear, I need to go like every five seconds,” Grace’s voice floats to me from behind. “If this kid doesn’t get out soon, I’m just going to live in there.”
From the Wreckage Page 28