Page 114 of What Hurts Us

Layla’s breath clouded around us as she laughed. “You’re not holding a grudge against the cow that caused your accident, are you?”

It was ironic that the road on the other side of this farm was where Layla and I met. Now, here we were again. “Nah,” I said, grinning. “She was pretty tasty. I settled the score.”

Layla swatted me in the stomach.

“I’m kidding!” I said in a hushed shout. “I’m kidding, honey. Maybelle is alive and well. That cow is living the high life. Has her own pen up by the farmhouse and everything.”

I pulled a small blanket out of the saddlebag and spread it at the roots of the willow tree. My back rested against the bark, and I opened my arms for Layla. She wiggled between my legs and reclined into my chest.

Crickets chirped, and frogs croaked as I held her close. “Tell me a secret,” I said as I brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck.

Layla shivered, a flood of goosebumps skittering across her skin. “A secret?”

“Mhmm.” I nuzzled my forehead into the crook of her neck. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows.”

Layla stilled in quiet contemplation. Finally, she piped up. “I cry whenever I lose a patient.”

My brows knitted together. “Why is that a secret?”

She shrugged. “Most nurses don’t. At least, not the ones who’ve been in healthcare as long as I have. You become calloused after a while. Jaded. Nothing fazes you.”

“But not you?”

She laughed. “No, I’m a calloused bitch. But I see a lot of patients who die, and they’re alone. They don’t have anyone to cry over them. It’s pretty insignificant, but I cry for them. I guess it’s my way of honoring their existence on this earth. That they didn’t go unnoticed.”

“I love that about you.” I crooked my finger beneath her chin and tilted her gaze up to meet mine. Her eyes were glassy.

“Your turn,” she whispered. “Tell me one of your secrets.”

I nipped at her ear. “I love you.”

“That’s not a secret!” she laughed. “I know you love me.”

“Fine.” I grinned. “I trust you.”

Her elbow nudged my gut. “Still not a secret.”

I tightened my arms around her stomach. “I want to start a family with you.”

She froze.

“I want to marry you.” I laced our fingers together. “I want to grow old with you.”

I kissed her temple and let my lips linger. “I want to make your tea, and I want to see you fill our home with tacky mugs. I want to see all your crafting shit all over the kitchen table. I want my uniform covered in glitter from time to time. I want to find you asleep on the couch every time you come home. Then I want to carry you up the stairs until I’m gray and old, and my body refuses to let me do it anymore.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and I brushed it away.

“I want to be your home. I want to be the place where you know it’s safe to fall apart.”

I had already done the knee thing once, so I simply pulled the small box out of my pocket and opened it in front of her. “Fadat besham, Eshgham.” My Farsi was ten steps below rudimentary, but she understood my heart. I cradled her throat, gently grazing her velvet cheek with my thumb. “Will you marry me?”

There were no onlookers. Nothing showy about it. Just the two of us huddled together. Leaning on each other. Trusting each other. Loving each other.

Layla nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes.”

There were more tears as I slid the ring back on her finger. Diamonds I had the jeweler add to the setting sparkled in the moonlight. It was something old and new all at the same time. Our history and our future.

“I love you so much, Callum.” Her hands sandwiched my cheeks as she turned and kissed me. I tipped to the side, my back slamming into the ground. Layla’s knees dug into the soft soil as our mouths collided. Her lips were soft and supple, and I could still taste the faint traces of cardamom on her tongue. She was sweet, with an edge. Calming yet invigorating. She was complex and simple at the same time.

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