Page 48 of Pocketful of Us

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Sketch."

"Oh, thank fuck." Releasing a ragged breath, he pulled me onto his lap and stretched his legs out. I came willingly, choosing death than to be separated from him again.

"It's okay." I nuzzled his chest with my chest. "I'm okay."

"I'm sorry, Ro." Cradling me in his big arms, he rocked our bodies back and forth. "So fucking sorry, baby."

My breath hitched in my throat. "For what?"

"For being such a piece of shit to you," he groaned, tightening his hold on me. "All you wanted was a decent apology and I couldn’t give that to you. All of the hell I put you through, and I couldn't get the fucking word out when you needed it."

"Sketch, it's okay –"

"No, it's not, Ro. It's not okay at all," he replied, tone urgent. "I made a promise to myself that if I was lucky enough to get the chance to see you again, I would fall at your feet and beg your forgiveness. So, I'm sorry, Romi Dillon. I'm so fucking sorry. For the things I said and didn't mean. For the worthless way I made you feel. For standing back and allowing those pricks at school to call you names. For calling you those names myself." He visibly flinched, his shame and remorse stifling. "I am so sorry for being the very worst version of myself during a time in your life when you needed my best version." His eyes burned with sincerity as he spoke. "When we were apart, it was like the best part of my soul got lost, and all of the good in me had been snuffed out… except that it wasn't lost Ro, it was stuck to you. You took it with you."

"Sketch…"

"I nearly broke down so many times. I wanted to screamfuck youat your dad and just snatch you up and run. So many goddamn times, baby. You have no idea." He sighed. "But my pain was never an excuse to treat you like I did. And I am so sorry for that."

My heart.

It squeezed so tight in my chest I could barely breathe.

I loved this boy.

I loved him with everything I had inside of me.

"None of that matters anymore," I replied, knotting my fingers in his hoodie. "And I forgive you if you forgive me?"

Tender affection filled his eyes. "I already have."

"What are we going to do, Sketch?" A shiver rolled through me. "How are we going to get out of this? They're shooting out there. There are men with guns everywhere and my father wants you dead. It's a freaking warzone!"

"I don’t know."

"I'm really scared," I admitted. "Of this world we've been thrown into."

"Yeah, Ro." His arms tightened around my body. "Me, too."

"Do you think we're going to make it?" I squeezed out. "Survive this, I mean? Find a way out?"

Sighing heavily, Sketch reached out and stroked my face with the back of his hand – his bloodied and bruised hand.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he tucked a wandering tendril of hair behind my ear before catching my chin in his hand.

"Come here," he finally whispered, twisting me around to straddle his lap. His hand moved to the back of my neck as he pressed his forehead to mine. "You're going to make it." He clamped his free hand on my hip, fingers digging into my flesh with his obvious desperation. "I'm never going to let anything happen to you. You're going to get out of this, Ro. You're going to survive all of this bullshit. I promise –"

"Please don’t make promises," I begged. "You can't know that, Sketch."

"Fine then, here's what Idoknow," he growled, hands clamping down possessively on my hips. "I'm in love with you. I always have been and I always will be. I don’t want anyone else. I want all of your messes and I want all of the fucked-up complications that come with you. I want you to love me back, andkeeploving me back, even when it's not good for you. I want to be with you. I want to be inside you, I just want you all the time. Day and night. Forever and always. It might be unhealthy and wrong, but there it is. Hell, maybe I'm co-dependent on you and my feelings are all kinds of fucked up. Or maybe this is what being in love feels like for everyone. I honestly have no idea." He touched his brow to mine, his breath fanning my face. "All I know is when you're hurting, I'm hurting. You call and I come running. Every single time. That's how deep our connection runs, Romi Dillon. So yeah, Idoknow you're going to be okay, Icansay it, because I know there's no other option. Not in my life. Youhaveto be okay." He stroked his nose with mine. "No Romi. No Sketch."

"See, that's the thing," I strangled out, cupping his beautiful face between my trembling hands. "You say that I'm going to make it, and that I'll be okay… but I don’t want to be okay ifyou'renot okay." Exhaling shakily, I pressed my tear stained lips to his. "I don’t want any of this without you." Breathing against his lips, I absorbed the taste of salt, tears, Sketch Capaldi. "So, either you make it, too, or you take me with you."

Emotion flashed in his eyes. "Is that so?"

I shrugged. "Well, we are betrothed after all, right?"

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