Page 52 of You've Got The Love
“Okay,liefje. It was a no-brainer; I wasn’t going to leave you vulnerable. But if this chat is going the way Ithinkit is, you’ve got to know, I’m not easy. Not by a long shot.”
Her hand trembles slightly as she reaches for my arm, her fingers brushing my skin like a promise. “I don’t want easy. I want real. I wantyou.”
I nod once, then the words leave me before I can stop them.
“I’ve only ever had one girlfriend before I married, and I’ve only slept with two women,” I admit quietly. “Marieke… and you.”
Her breath catches. Her eyes widen, then soften. “You mean that.”
“I do.”
The weight of the confession presses down, tangled with grief for the woman I lost and fear for the one sitting beside me.
“Being with you…” My throat tightens. “It’s different. Scary. Because if I lose you, if something happens to you…” I stop, voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can survive it.”
Amber leans closer, her forehead finding mine. Her skin is warm, soft, and it grounds me.
“We don’t have to know what happens next,” she whispers. “We just have to choose this. Here. Now.”
I close my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. The scent of her, the soft brush of her curls against my face, the echo of the chase still pounding in my blood—it all collides into one truth I can’t ignore.
“Alright,” I whisper. “Here. Now.”
For a moment, we just breathe.
Amber’s hand is still in mine, her fingers warm and steady, and I feel her shift closer—slow, like she’s afraid to break the silence between us. Her forehead stays againstmine, the space between us charged, intimate, holding more than words ever could.
I open my eyes and find her already watching me.
No fear. Just feeling.
I let my hand slide to her jaw, rough thumb brushing her cheekbone. She leans into it like it’s instinct, her eyes fluttering shut.
And then we kiss.
It’s not urgent or desperate—not like before. This is something quieter. A promise. Her lips are soft and sure against mine, and when she exhales, it shivers straight down my spine. My hand rests at the side of her neck, her pulse beating fast beneath my fingers.
I don’t press. I don’t need to.
She’s here. She’smine. And for the first time, I let myself believe it.
When we finally pull apart, she lingers close, her eyes shining in the low light.
“We’re okay,” she whispers. Not a question. A quiet truth she’s choosing to believe.
“Yeah,” I say, brushing my nose gently against hers. “We are.”
She leans back slightly, but her fingers stay tangled with mine. The forest hums quietly around us, water trickling somewhere in the distance.
She leans her head back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a small smile plays on her lips. I cansee the exhaustion pulling at her. She hasn’t slept properly in days. Neither of us has.
“You should rest,” I murmur.
“Can you?” she asks without opening her eyes.
“No.” I glance in the mirrors again—nothing but trees and mist. “But I can watch. You sleep.”
She sighs, soft and reluctant, but then her hand slides across the seat, her fingertips brushing mine again. “Will you wake me if?—”
