Page 124 of Parrish

“I’m about to find out,” I tell him.

Taking the book from his hands, I step around him and charge up the stairs as fast as my fucking legs carry me. Before I acted like a dick, she said she was starting to remember things. If she saw that fucking Cadillac, we won’t have to second guess shit. I won’t have to wonder if I’m fucking starting a war for no good reason.

Reaching the bedroom, I step inside and kick the door closed with heel of my boot. My gaze roams the room as I make my way towards the bathroom.

I’m about to call her name when I spot her standing in front of the mirror, hands braced on the counter, sobbing. My stomach drops at the sight and I curse myself for making her cry. Tossing the book on the floor, I move to stand behind her.

“Jesus Christ, Reina,” I mutter, pulling her against my chest. With one arm wrapped across her chest and my other hand on her hip, I squeeze her and whisper against her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Fuck, I hate when you give me your tears.”

Shaking her head, she covers my hands with hers and pulls out of my arms. I reach for her again, desperate to make her stop crying but she takes another step away from me.

“Reina, I know—"

“Stop,” she whispers as she wipes her eyes. Her hands fall to her sides and she closes the distance between us. Laying one palm against my chest, she angles her head and those beautiful, soulful eyes find mine.

Fuck.

I swallow and cover her hand with mine.

“You,” she rasps.

A long time ago, Reina and I gave new meaning to two simple words, and they changed our lives forever. I don’t think her forgetting me killed me so much. I think it was the possibility of never hearing her say ‘you and me’ that did it.

My throat tightens at the single word and fuck me, my eyes water.

Fuck space.

Fuck not touching her.

Lifting my hands, I cradle her face and take another step closer so that I can feel her goddamn breath wisp across my lips.

“You remember that?” I ask hoarsely.

Reaching up, she nods and circles her fingers around my wrists.

“I do,” she says. “And that’s not the response you’re supposed to give in return.”

In life, we don’t get too many rewrites. If you’re lucky you get one, maybe two. But whatever you get, you sure as fuck make the most of it.

“Say it again,” I demand roughly.

“You,” she repeats.

You, you’re everything.

You’re the moon and the stars.

You’re my whole world.

You’re the one I give my life to.

“Me,” I say, trailing my thumb over her lower lip.

Me, the one who will pick you up when you fall.

Me, the one who will chase away all the demons.

Me, the one who will always heal you.

---