Clark hung his towel, took a few deep breaths, and tried to push Luthor from his mind. Then he went to find Lois.
He found her curled up in the corner of the couch reading her library book. She looked up when he entered the room, and the trepidation in her eyes turned his stomach. He never wanted her to look at him like that, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. Like she dreaded whatever interaction might come next.
“I thought we were going to read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil next,” he said gently. “Are you going to abandon me to discuss it with Lana all on my own?”
A slow smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Nah, I can read both.”
He crossed the room and retrieved his book from where it still lay on the coffee table, and sat on the couch with her. He wanted to hold her, to wrap her in his arms and feel for himself that she was whole and safe. But she was all the way at one end of the small couch, and he wasn’t sure if that was a subtle message to him that she still wanted some space after their argument, so he sat on the other end.
He tried to read his book for an hour, but between his racing thoughts and his constant awareness of her, so close and yet so far away, he barely managed to retain a single thing he read.
“Hey,” he said finally, drawing her attention. She looked up from her book and waited. “I’m going to start dinner. Do you want to keep reading? Or do you want to help?”
She darted a glance toward the kitchen and seemed to waver. “I’m not very helpful,” she said. “I’ll probably just get in the way.”
His heart lurched at the tone of her voice. Gone was the usual taunting pride in her disdain for even basic culinary skills. Instead she sounded resigned, or embarrassed even.
He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need her help – he just wanted her company. He didn’t care if she chopped a single vegetable. He just wanted to be in her presence; to hear her voice. But she was clearly still upset, and he didn’t want to push her to do something she didn’t want to do. She was already mad at him for trying to control and manipulate her. He didn’t want to reinforce that feeling by coercing her into cooking with him, when he knew that was a chore she didn’t enjoy.
“Okay,” he said awkwardly. “Well, I’ll just… get started. If you change your mind….”
In the kitchen, he washed the produce and started chopping and grating. The similarities between Thursday night, when he had cooked while she finished her article on the couch, made the differences stand out in stark contrast. There was no comfortable conversation this time, with her asking his opinion on the wording for her article. There were no flirty glances. And there were no arms around his neck, no kisses on his cheek once her work was done.
He snuck a glance into the living room. Her gaze was on the book in her lap, but it had been ages since he last heard her turn the page.
This is not how he wanted to spend their last night together.
“Honey?” he said.
She turned her attention to him immediately, an almost hopeful look on her face.
“I’m done with most of the prep work. All the boring stuff. I’m going to stuff the dumplings now. Do you want to come help? It’s easy, I promise. Or…you don’t have to help, if you want to just-”
She nodded and stood, dropping her book on the couch, and coming to join him in the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come on,” he said, steering her to the counter where he had laid out wrappers and bowls of ingredients. “I promise you, it’s easier than it looks.”
He showed her how much stuffing to place in the middle of the wrapper and how to pinch it closed, and they worked together, the awkwardness between them melting away a little.
As they cooked and then cleaned up the kitchen, he kept sneaking glances at her, sometimes catching her eye and sometimes stealing a moment to stare while her attention was focused elsewhere.
He tried not to think of how different this evening could have been. Tried not to think about where he would be right now if he hadn’t heard that safety – if he hadn’t been fast enough to catch those bullets.
Would he be at the hospital, waiting for word from the surgeon? Would he be at the police station waiting for news on the search for her murderer? Is that how he would have met her family for the first time – in the waiting room of the police precinct?
His stomach revolted, the fragrant aroma of the dumplings suddenly nauseating.
He excused himself for a minute. At the bathroom sink, he splashed water on his face and told himself to pull it together. She was safe. Everything was fine.
Except it wasn’t. It wasn’t remotely fine. Luthor was still out there somewhere. He was probably even more angry and determined than ever to exact his revenge after his first attempt failed. He had to make her see that she was in danger. He had to get her to agree to take every precaution. If only he could convince her to leave Metropolis until Luthor was caught. Surely he would be caught soon.
But she would never agree to that. And she would be furious if he suggested it.
A bodyguard? Would she consent to that? Maybe someone from the police department? An off duty officer? Or on duty? Would they give her protection if she asked for it? If she told them she felt unsafe? Maybe? He wasn’t sure how that worked.
He returned to the kitchen, where she was plating the food. He tried to smile and comment on what a great job she had done helping, but his voice sounded wooden and hollow. She looked up in surprise, and he knew she heard it.
Dinner was quiet. Not as awkward as before, but not normal either. He couldn’t stop thinking about her safety. No matter how hard he tried to focus on their conversation, everything reminded him of how he had taken her life and her safety for granted. When she talked about the food, he wondered if this was the last meal he would ever cook for her. When she told him about the biography she was reading, he wondered if that perfect moment at the library was the first and last time she would ever hug him like that in public.
He knew he couldn’t say any of those things to her, but he couldn’t stop them from rattling around in his mind. And the din of those voices made it difficult to think or talk about anything else. His answers to her questions were perfunctory, their conversation lackluster and one-sided.
After dinner, as they cleared the table, she asked if he wanted to watch a movie, and he had a sudden moment of panic thinking about her walking down the street to the video rental store. He stuttered a non-committal response about it being late, and she looked at him guardedly.
He should just tell her. He should tell her he didn’t want to walk to the video store because he was worried it wasn’t safe. But she had finally warmed up a bit after their fight earlier, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her again.
But wasn’t it better she be upset than dead?
He was losing it.
Maybe he just needed to tell her the whole truth. Just rip the bandaid off. Listen, Lois, I know you think it was just a car backfiring, but it was definitely gunshots. I know, because I caught the bullets. I can do that, you see, because I’m an alien with superhuman strength and speed. Oh, and did I mention the flying?
If he even managed to get half of that out of his mouth before she unceremoniously tossed him out the door, it would be a miracle.
Even if he could convince her that he was telling the truth before she kicked him out, then what…. Would she listen to him? Would she let him stay and keep her safe? Or would she insist that she was fine on her own?
And could he do that to his parents? Tell her his secret without even warning them? He trusted her. He did. He believed – as much as it was possible to believe – that she would protect his secret. That she wouldn’t see him as her ticket to a second Pulitzer. But…if she was angry? If she changed her mind and decided she couldn’t love him; decided the truth of who he was was just simply too much for her…. Then what? She would know his secret forever. His parents had spent thirty years guarding this secret from everyone, including their families and their closest friends. Did he really have the right to tell her - and endanger them by proxy – without at least giving them a warning?
“Are you sure you don’t want to watch a movie?” she asked. “It’s only seven thirty. It’s not late.”
He looked up at the sound of her voice and realized the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean. Somehow, in his panicked stupor, he had managed to help with the after-dinner chores.
His gaze went to the clock on the stove and he saw she was right. Of course. It wasn’t late. That had been a stupid excuse.
“Sure,” he said. “A movie is good. Why don’t we just pick something you have?”
She nodded, and he couldn’t help but notice she looked a little relieved. She had probably been wondering what they were supposed to do for the rest of the night if he didn’t want to watch a movie and couldn’t seem to hold up his end of a conversation.
He followed her to the cabinet where she kept her movies, and he tried to focus on the collection. They had agreed to watch a sports movie, he remembered, so he reached for Field of Dreams, and held it up questioningly. She nodded immediately and took it from him, walking over the VCR and popping it in.
He walked to the couch and sat. He thought about earlier, when she had curled up in the far corner and he had thought she wanted space. He draped his arm over the back of the couch, letting her decide where to sit. When she came to join him, she hesitated for just a second before sitting beside him, and he left his arm on the couch rather than wrapping it around her, in case that hesitation had been because she wasn’t sure she wanted to cuddle. He wouldn’t blame her after all his weirdness tonight.
She fast forwarded through the previews, and the movie began, but his brain zoned out immediately. He had seen the movie multiple times – he owned it too – and it faded into the background, a discordant soundtrack to the slideshow of horrors in his brain.
They were silent during the movie, none of their usual banter of commentary. And she didn’t move at all, as if she was frozen in place beside him. Almost close enough to touch him, but not quite.
His mind drifted back to the first time they had watched a movie together on this couch. When he had almost kissed her, but stopped himself just in time because he knew she wasn’t ready. He had already been in love with her, though he wasn’t using that word yet, even in his mind. She had snuggled and cuddled and touched him all night long, and he had been dying inside, desperate for her to give in to what was so clearly building between them. He had been so scared she would never give him a chance, sure he would die of a broken heart. But now, after loving her…. After having a taste of what their life together could be. After touching her the way he had last night. The thought of losing her now…. He couldn’t breathe when he thought about it.
She slid her hand tentatively onto his thigh, and he smiled automatically at her touch. He loved her so much. He slid his gaze to her, hoping this meant she had decided he was forgiven and he could touch her again. He expected to find her smiling at him in that resigned way she sometimes did, when she didn’t want to laugh at his stupid jokes but couldn’t help herself. Instead she looked nervous, as if she wasn’t sure her touch would be welcome.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, though something was obviously wrong. “I just didn’t know…if this was okay.”
He laughed incredulously. “What are you talking about? I always want you to touch me.”
Her eyes looked suspiciously wet and she took a breath before answering, the bravado in her voice not fooling him for a second. “Okay, good. Great.”
She turned her attention back to the screen. He had no idea what that was about, but she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. He slid his arm from the back of the couch to her shoulders, hoping that was the right thing to do, and she leaned into his embrace immediately. He hugged her, then turned and kissed her on the top of the head.
When the movie ended, she asked if he wanted to watch another, and he said yes because she seemed to be hoping for that answer. She picked this time, and he laughed when she picked Sleepless in Seattle.
“Do your coworkers know you are a sucker for romantic comedies?” he asked as she curled up beside him, her head on his chest. “I wonder how terrified of you they would be if they knew that.”
She laughed briefly, but her laughter sounded hollow.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he teased.
He tried to focus on her as they watched the movie, pushing aside all his fears and worries. He tuned into her heartbeat, letting the steady thumping lull him into a pleasant state of semi-relaxation.
She was quiet through the movie again, not pointing out any of her favorite parts, and he wasn’t sure if she was still upset about their fight earlier or if she was just sad now about him leaving the next day. She didn’t seem to want to talk, and he was too preoccupied with staving off his own panic to push.
After the movie, they got ready for bed. They brushed their teeth together in the bathroom, and his heart lurched at that small intimacy. He didn’t want to go home to his empty house.
He desperately wanted to sleep with her again. To hold her all night and wake up beside her. His arms ached for her. But she said nothing about sharing her bed, and he didn’t want to presume that last night’s invitation was permanent.
There was no way he was going to be able to sleep across the hall. He knew he would be up all night worrying and strategizing about his plan to talk to her in the morning. He would try to reason with her, not about the gunshots, but about her safety in general. Hopefully she would agree to increased safety measures. If not, he was going to have to reveal his secret. He couldn’t just leave her here alone, vulnerable. She had to know what she was facing.
He finished in the bathroom and stepped out, giving her privacy to finish up. He lingered in the hallway for a moment, then paced in the guest room.
He heard the bathroom door open, and then she was in his doorway, her brow furrowed. She looked so sad and worried. He had no idea what to do.
“Are you…? Do you want…? Come to bed with me?” she managed finally. “Please.”
He was across the small room in two strides, his arms wrapping around her. She was trembling.
“Hey,” he said. “Of course I want to sleep with you. I just didn’t want to assume…. I didn’t want to pressure you.”
She relaxed, and he rubbed her back, frustrated at how badly he was messing up everything tonight. He should have asked her what she wanted.
He stepped back and held her hand as he led her across the hall to her bedroom. He dropped her hand and walked to the side of the bed he had slept on the previous night, the side by the window. And then he hesitated. “Is this…okay?” he asked. “This side? Do you have a preference?”
The corners of her mouth turned up into a little smile, and his heart untwisted a little. “That’s good,” she said.
They slid under the covers and rolled to face each other. He stroked her hair and tucked a lock behind her ear, then stroked her cheek. The whole evening had been a disaster, but she was here with him. She was alive, and she wanted him in her bed.
He had no idea how he was possibly going to force himself to go back to Smallville tomorrow. Somehow he was going to have to stand in front of his classes and teach, and then stand out on the football field and coach. As if his entire heart wasn’t walking around half a country away with a giant target on her back.
She leaned forward and kissed him, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. She had been so distant since their fight, and he missed her terribly. He had been aching for her all evening, ever since he almost lost her. He needed to feel her alive and well in his arms. He needed to feel her breath on his body, to hear her heart race as he loved her.
She rolled toward him, draping one leg over his, and he moaned with a mixture of pleasure and pent-up longing. She took the opportunity to deepen their kiss, and his mind whirled. His hands roamed her body, reacquainting themselves with her beauty.
Her hand found its way under his shirt and slid up, dragging his shirt up with it as her palm glided across his body, up and then back down until it brushed the waistband of his shorts. She pulled her lips from his, and trailed kisses down his neck, sending a shiver through him as her tongue darted out to taste that sensitive spot at the crook of his neck.
“Oh, honey,” he breathed, unable to form a coherent thought when she was doing that.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Something in him stilled. It wasn’t the words. As much as it still thrilled him to hear her say those words, there was nothing out of place about them in this moment. It was her voice. Last night, when she had kissed him and touched him like this, she had whispered words of love. And her voice had been full of wonder and joy. And tonight that was replaced by a sadness and longing that made his chest ache.
He brought a hand up to her head, running his fingers through her hair as she slipped lower, pushing his shirt back up and moving her lips to his chest. His mind grappled with the contrast between her voice and her action, but his body was interested only in what she was doing with her mouth and her hands.
“I love you too,” he managed to whisper as her hand moved back to his waistband, stealing his breath. She kissed her way back up his chest, then tugged at the shirt until he sat up enough to strip it off and toss it aside. Her lips returned to his body, trailing kisses over his shoulder and up to his neck.
She curled one hand around his neck as her mouth found his again. She rolled to her back, her momentum pulling him with her, and he groaned as he settled atop her. It was his turn to kiss her and his lips moved greedily down her neck to the spot that always made her gasp. She whispered his name, and he smiled his first real smile since they climbed her apartment steps eight hours earlier.
Her hands roamed his back, and he felt her hook one leg over his, drawing their bodies even closer together. “God, I love you,” he whispered against her neck, his need for her growing with every second.
She ran her fingers through his hair and lifted her chin to whisper in his ear. “Make love to me, Clark.”
He froze, every cell of his body on high alert.
“I don’t want to wait,” she whispered as her hands slid down his bare back. “I changed my mind. I’m ready. I want you. I love you.”
It was the ‘I love you’ that broke through the gaze of love and lust and set off his warning bells again. There was that sadness and longing again. Something was wrong.
He lifted his head, and looked into her tear-filled eyes.
“Lois?” he said, suddenly fully alert. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine. I just….”
“Just what, Lois? Talk to me,” he said as he sat up. She was definitely not fine.
She didn’t say anything as she sat up and scooted back against the headboard. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, and she looked like a scared little girl. She crossed her arms on top of her knees, and rested her forehead against them, and he knew she was crying now. He reached out and rested a hand on her upper arm, silently pleading with her to talk to him.
She took a shuddering breath and he heard her whisper in a voice that should have been too quiet for him to hear, “I can’t even do this right.”
He was completely at a loss. He turned to face her more fully, both hands on her arms. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I keep messing up tonight. I hate making you sad.”
“What?” she said, lifting her head, her voice incredulous, her eyes filling with tears again. “What are you talking about? You aren’t messing anything up. I messed everything up. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to fix it. I thought maybe if I…but you don’t even want…. I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Fix what?” he asked, baffled. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
She pressed a fist to her mouth, choking back a sob. “I did. Earlier, you were just trying to protect me, and I…lashed out. I was so mean. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it. I always do this-”
“Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand to stop the cascade of words before she could start apologizing again. “We both got upset. It got heated. That’s going to happen sometimes. You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I hurt you,” she whispered. “I know I did. And now you won’t touch me. You’ll barely look at me. You said we’re okay, but you’re…mad? Or sad? I don’t know. But it’s not good.
“And you’re going to go home tomorrow, and you're going to think about this visit and how I ruined everything. How I spent the whole first half working when I was supposed to be spending time with you. And then when you tried to protect me, I yelled at you and insulted you and….”
He was stunned. So stunned he didn’t even stop her. He just let her go on and on. She was sobbing now, tears streaming down her face.
“And now….you’re going to realize this is who I really am. I’m a workaholic with no friends. My coworkers are all terrified of me. Even my family barely talks to me. You're always saying how sweet I am, but I’m not. This is the real me. And now that you’ve seen this…. Now that you know…. You’re going to realize this isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it.”
Her voice was getting more and more hysterical as the words poured out of her. He sat there, slack-jawed, totally blindsided by this heartbreaking confessional.
“Last night…and this morning…everything was so perfect. So perfect. I’ve never been that happy in my whole life. And I just ruined it. I couldn’t even make it last one day. I knew this would happen. It always happens. I’m not good at any of this. This is why I didn’t want to do this. I knew I would mess it up. And then I would lose everything. Not just…your love, but your friendship too. You’re my best friend, Clark. And now I love you. I love you so much. And you’re going to break my heart. And it’s going to be all my fault. I thought I could fix it. But you don’t even want…. I thought….
“Last night…” she stopped and took a ragged breath. “Last night-”
“Last night was the best night of my entire life,” he said softly, finding his voice at last. His mind was reeling. How could he have missed this? How could he not have seen how scared she was?
“Honey, listen to me,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. Not even a tiny bit. I love you so much. I’m just scared. I’m terrified that I’m going to leave tomorrow, and something is going to happen to you. I’m so scared I can’t think straight. I’m so sorry you thought I was upset with you. I’m so sorry you thought I didn’t want to touch you.”
She sobbed, a shuddering, heartbreaking sob.
“Come here,” he said, his voice cracking. “Let me hold you. God, I’m so sorry.”
He scooted toward her, and she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair, stunned and gutted by her tears. He was unbelievably frustrated with himself. How could he have hurt her like this?
“I should have told you,” he said. “I should have told you that I couldn’t stop worrying. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to start another fight. And I wasn’t touching you because I thought you still wanted space. I didn’t want to crowd you. I should have realized. I should have known. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
He held her for a few minutes while she cried, and then when she was calm and cried out, he spoke again. “Lois, I love you. I love you,” he said slowly and with emphasis – not just a declaration, but a reminder of the depth of his feelings for her. “And I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, I think. I love how fierce you are. I love how dedicated you are to your job. I love that you don’t back down from a fight. I love that you stand up for yourself…and for others. I love that about you.
“And I’m not the only one. You do have friends. Your coworkers aren’t terrified of you. That’s just…. They love you. Perry and Jimmy and even Cat. They give you a hard time, because that’s just how they relate to you. But they’re all worried about you. They all care about you.
“And your…ferocity….It’s not the whole of who you are. You’re so sweet. God, you’re sweet. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. The way you talk to me. The way you talk to my family. The way you laugh at Sophie’s pageant performance and read stories to Caleb on the porch swing. That’s who you are too. That’s why I love you so much. Because you’re both of those things. I don’t just love one part of you. Don’t you understand this is what makes you so special?”
She pulled back to look at him, a guarded but hopeful look on her tear-streaked face.
“Lois, I love you,” he said again, raising a hand to wipe away her tears. “I’m not just going to decide that you’re too much trouble, or that I don’t want to be with you. That’s not going to happen. I’m never going to stop loving you.”
She was quiet and still for a minute, and he wondered if he had gone too far. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her, not panic her about lifetime commitments.
But her face was hopeful, not horrified. “Never?” she asked.
“Never,” he said, his voice quiet but strong, not a single waver or hesitation.
“I love you,” she said softly.
He reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand and handed her a few, waiting patiently as she wiped her face and blew her nose. Then he opened his arms to her and held her until he felt her relax.
He pulled away finally, and stroked her cheek, wiping away the last traces of her tears. He didn’t want to do it, but there was one other thing they needed to discuss.
“You thought you could fix things by having sex with me?” he asked. It hurt him just to say the words.
She looked up at him guiltily. “I just wanted to fix things between us. After last night, things were so perfect. And I thought maybe, if we…. I just wanted you to love me again.”
He inhaled sharply, his heart torn from his chest. “Oh, Lois.” He took a deep breath, completely at a loss for words. His chest ached.
She looked down at her hands, obviously embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I never want you to feel like that. Like I might stop loving you. That’s not going to happen. And I do want you. So badly. But not like this. Not because you think it will make me love you. Not because you’re trying to fix us. When we made love last night-”
Her head snapped up. “We didn’t-”
“Did we not?” he asked softly. “Because it sure felt like it to me.”
She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes growing misty again, then she nodded. “Yeah.”
“Last night was amazing because it was a celebration of our love. When we…take that next step for the first time, I want it to be like that. We’re going to remember that night for the rest of our lives. I don’t want it to be a bittersweet memory. I want it to be full of joy. Just like last night. I love you so much. You don’t have to do anything to win my heart. You don’t have to do anything to keep my love. It’s yours.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks again, but the sadness was gone from her. She was looking at him like he was a life raft in the ocean.
He reached out and settled his hands at her waist, tugging her closer. He gazed into her eyes long enough to make her blush and duck her head, and then he kissed her. Long and deep and overflowing with love.
When he lifted his lips from hers, and her eyes fluttered open, she was back. She looked up at him adoringly, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy, and he smiled. He would do anything in the world to keep her safe; to keep that sparkle in her eyes.
He pulled her into a hug, holding her for a few minutes. They sat quietly, just holding each other, hearts beating in a steady rhythm.
“I’ll be more careful,” she said quietly when they separated. “I’ll call Henderson tomorrow — ask for an update off the record; see about increasing my security a little. I’ll stick to work and home. Try to vary up my routine a little. I’ve been through this before. I know how to keep myself safe. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry you were scared.”
He dropped his head to her shoulder and exhaled a shaky breath of relief. Her hand at the back of his neck stroked gently. “Thank you,” he whispered, his relief making him a little dizzy.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize how worried you were. I know how to stay safe. When I said I’ve been through this before…I should have explained that means I know what precautions to take. Not that I don’t care or don’t take the threats seriously.”
He lifted his head to look at her, the tender look on her face emboldening him. “Come to Smallville with me,” he pleaded. “Just for a little while. Just until….”
She shook her head slowly, without any of the anger of before. “I can’t, Clark. I need to be working this. The safest thing for me is for him to be put away where he belongs. I can’t do that in Smallville.”
He had known what her answer would be, but he had to try.
He saw the insecurity creep back into her eyes, and he shook his head. “I understand,” he said softly, smiling at her.
She smiled up at him, her relief evident. He opened his arms to her, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
“Are you ready to lay down?” he asked. “I really want to hold you.”
She nodded against his shoulder and took a deep shuddering breath before sighing and relaxing more fully against him. “I want to go wash my face,” she said. “I’m a mess. I need to clean up.”
“Ok,” he said, hugging her tightly before letting her go.
She made her way across the room and out into the hall, and he scooted back down on the bed, laying back against his pillow and waiting for her to return. He was so overwhelmed by their conversation. He couldn’t believe she had been so upset, and he had read the situation so poorly. He was so glad he hadn’t left without having this conversation. He never wanted her to worry like that ever again.
And he believed now that she was taking the threat to her safety seriously. There was no need to reveal his secret to her before he left, which was a huge relief, though after their conversation tonight, it was more apparent than ever that he owed her his honesty and needed to figure out how to tell her as soon as possible. He wasn’t even sure he could wait for Thanksgiving. Maybe he could make a surprise trip back next weekend and tell her.
He was still absolutely terrified about her safety. Coming back next weekend would mean he could be here to protect her.
She paused in the doorway and smiled at him, and his heart sped up immediately. He loved her so much. Tomorrow he would think about how to tell her and when. Tomorrow he would think about how to keep her safe while he was half a country away. Tonight, he just wanted to hold her and kiss her and know that she was safe in his arms.
He swept back the covers, and she stepped quickly across the room and climbed in beside him. He hadn’t bothered to find the shirt he had stripped off and tossed earlier, so he was dressed only in his sleep shorts. Her hand went automatically to his chest, and then slid up over his shoulder and came to rest on his arm, her fingers dancing gently over the muscles. He smiled, thinking of earlier when he had thought about the way she loved to touch his arms and wished for that simpler time.
This was more complicated. Love was more complicated. But it was so worth it.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
“How much I love you,” he answered.
She laughed and pulled back to look at him, eyes sparkling. “You always say that.”
“It’s always true,” he said simply.
Then he reached out and cupped her cheek, and leaned up to kiss her. Tomorrow was looming, but for now it was still tonight, and he was going to make the most of the time they had left.
