Page 55 of The Ballad of Us
“I love you.” Her words strike me like lightning, tearing through every defense I have.
For a moment, fear knots in my stomach. Will she really trust me this time? Doubt crackles between us, fragile and raw, but she loves me. Right now. Present tense. All my broken wholeness is fully seen.
“I love you too.” The words feel both monumental and as natural as breathing. “So much, Rhea. More than I knew how to before.”
She tilts her face up to mine, and when I kiss her this time, it's with the knowledge that we're not just remembering what we used to be. We're discovering what we can become.
When we finally part, she settles back against my chest with a contented sigh.
“Best Thanksgiving ever,” she murmurs.
“Best Thanksgiving ever,” I agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Outside, the sun begins to set over the mountains, bathing them in hues of pink, purple, and orange. Inside Rhea's warm apartment, holding the woman I love while she dozes against my shoulder, I feel like the luckiest man alive.
Sobriety gave me my life back, but Rhea gave me a reason to live it. As the future unfolds—fragile and bright, I let myself hope for a lifetime of sunsets and laughter, every day earned, every joy sharper for the struggle behind it.
The pounding on my apartment door at four in the morning jolts me out of bed. I peek through the peephole, and four familiar faces grin back at me. Even though I'm annoyed, seeing my friends brings a rush of comfort.
“What fresh hell is this?” I mutter as I unlock the door, finding Case in Point, standing in my hallway, each looking smug, like the world's most attractive early morning intervention team.
“Black Friday! We're going shopping! Where’s Gray?” Parker announces with the enthusiasm of someone who's clearly been awake for hours.
“It's four in the morning,” I protest.
“Exactly!” Cody bounces on his toes. “We have to beat the crowds to the good stuff.”
I stare at them, trying to process this development through my sleep-addled brain. “You guys want to go Black Friday shopping? Since when do any of you shop for anything that isn't delivered directly to your door?”
“Since we realized we have no idea what to get anyone for Christmas, and you're the only person we know who actually enjoys shopping,” Andrew explains.
“Also, we figured dragging you out of bed at an ungodly hour was better than trying to navigate the retail wilderness alone.” Zep grins like a mischievous kid.
“Emma's in on this conspiracy?” My hands fly to my hips in mock frustration.
“Emma planned half of it. She made a list of stores along with their driving directions. Very thorough. Color-coded.” Parker sounds prouder than any man with a crush should.
I accept the thermos gratefully and take a long sip of perfectly prepared coffee. “How long do I have to get ready?”
“Fifteen minutes? We want to hit the first store when it opens at five.” Andrew cringes when he sees my eyes widen in surprise.
“Fifteen minutes? I need at least thirty to look human.” How the hell am I supposed to walk around with these gorgeous men when I’m freshly awake and only have fifteen minutes to prepare?
“You look beautiful,” Gray says softly, his sincerity cutting through my doubts and making my heart skip.
“Flatterer. Twenty minutes, and I'm bringing snacks because you'll all be cranky and impossible by noon if your blood sugar drops,” I negotiate.
Twenty-three minutes later, I squeeze into the middle seat of Andrew’s SUV, wedged between Gray and Zep. Balancing my coffee in my lap, I fasten my seatbelt and glance around at everyone as Andrew starts the car. I wonder how my Friday turned into a shopping trip with five guys who shop like sheltered twelve-year-olds.
“So, what's the plan?” I ask as we wind through the dark mountain roads toward the nearest actual shopping center.
“We hit the electronics store first,” Cody explains, consulting what appears to be a hand-drawn map. “Then the department store, then that outdoor gear place, then lunch, then we improvise.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Christmas presents,” Wyatt says unhelpfully.
“For whom?” I lift a brow, hoping he’ll help me out a little here.
