Page 90 of Rocky Top

And the thought of a world without him?

I couldn’t breathe.

When Villain finally emerged, he gave me a once-over and handed me a clean rag for my hands, even though the damage had already been done.

“He’ll be alright,” he said. “But he needs rest. And maybe… a reason to keep resting.”

“What does that mean?”

He smiled big and disappeared down the hallway without another word.

I took that as permission.

I slipped into Rocky’s room. The blinds were drawn, moonlight creeping in through a crack, spilling silver across the bed where he lay, shirtless, stitched, bruised, but breathing. His chest rose and fell steady now, a world away from the ragged gasps I’d heard earlier.

I pulled a chair up beside him and sat, not trusting my knees to keep me upright much longer. My hand found his without thinking, sliding into his calloused grip like it belonged there.

We slept like the dead. Rocky, stitched up, and me in the chair beside him, clutching his hand. When I woke, he stirred. Hiseyes fluttered open, barely a crack, but enough to meet mine. The color had returned to his cheeks. He looked a million times better already. Villain had said he’d heal quick.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, tears stingy in my throat. “I thought—God, I thought—”

He reached up and touched my face. “You saved me.”

“You’re supposed to be the big bad wolf,” I said, laughing shakily. “I didn’t expect to be the one dragging your hide off the battlefield.”

His grin was crooked and tired. “Guess even wolves need their girls to rescue ‘em sometimes.”

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy,” he rasped.

Tears stung my eyes. “You scared the hell outta me.”

“I scared myself,” he admitted. “Didn’t think they’d hit us that hard. Or that dirty. I would’ve shifted but…”

“Flint—” I couldn’t finish. My stomach churned at the betrayal.

Rocky just nodded, like it didn’t surprise him.

“Fucker did it on purpose. Should’ve seen it comin’. But I was thinkin’ ‘bout you instead.”

Iblinked. “Me?”

He let out a rough chuckle. “Always you, Birdie. Ever since I saw you in those goddamn leggings by that campfire, makin’ burnt marshmallows and talkin’ to squirrels.”

A choked laugh escaped me. “They were chipmunks, thank you very much.”

We fell quiet after that, the kind that felt full of things left unsaid. I could feel the weight of it in my chest, heavy and hot. I couldn’t carry it anymore.

So, I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to his, and whispered, “I love you.”

His breath hitched. His fingers tightened on mine. And when he opened his eyes again, they were glassy and bright, blue like the edge of a lightning storm.

“You sure ‘bout that, sunshine?”

I nodded, tears spilling. “I know it’s fast, and it’s crazy, and you’ve got fur under your skin and a patch on your back, but damn it, Rocky—I love you. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

He surged up, wincing from his stitches, but he didn’t stop ‘til his lips found mine. The kiss was desperate, fierce, weeks of distance crossed in one breathless second. I climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, careful not to touch the worst of his wounds.

“You sure?” he growled against my mouth, hands already sliding under my shirt, palms warm and possessive on my skin.

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