I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,287

his, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe when I’m mad at you I’ll call you Jay,” I tease and try to smile and when he does, my lips turn up easily.

“I love you, John,” I tell him quietly, brushing my fingers against his lips. “And I love Jay, too. Both sides of you.”

“I love you, little bird.” He says the words just like he always has, with a hint of teasing and a touch of darkness.

I lean against him, and he holds me tightly. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re both broken from what happened to us. But the love that’s come from it can’t tear us apart. As long as we stay together.

“Always?” I ask him.

“Always.”

***

John

I can hear the shower running as I stop in front of the shower door. The tips of my fingers tap against the wood. She’s waiting for me, and so many times I think I should leave her. As if I’m undeserving of her and hurting her, keeping her back.

I close my eyes and let out a slow breath. When I inhale, the gentle smell of lavender fills my lungs. It’s what my little bird smells like. And just that little bit makes the memories of holding her come back to me. They flood to me now. The bad ones I try to ignore, but the ones with her, the ones with my little bird, I hold on to them with everything I have.

It’s why I want to let her go. And why I never will.

My eyes pop open wide, the selfishness and depravity making me hate the thought. She’s a grown woman though, and she knows who I am in every sense of the word. As long as she wants me, I’m staying with her.

I push the door open slowly and the steam greets me with warmth and slowly passes behind me.

The anger surprises me sometimes, but more than that, the fear.

My father’s dead and burned to ashes, but the fear is very much alive. I always knew the other side of me was filled with a darkness, but I wouldn’t have thought it was fear.

But that’s what creeps up more than anything. Especially at night.

Until my wife leans against me, giving me much-needed warmth. Until my hand splays across her belly and we both fall easily to sleep.

“I heard something about you always being right,” I tease and then pull the shirt over my head. She peeks out from the shower curtain with a quip on her lips, something smart no doubt, but instead her eyes fall to my chest and the thought is long gone.

A deep groan of satisfaction rumbles up my chest and her eyes reach mine as a blush creeps up her chest and she pulls the curtain back into place to hide behind.

I fucking love it. I love her. And to think, I may have never had her.

The past can ruin a person forever. They may recover, but they’re never the same. Never what they once were. The scar may be thicker than delicate skin. It may protect you from some things and give you a wall to hide behind.

But it’s the gentle things that will cut it open and leave you raw and wounded once again.

Love is gentle and unassuming. It won’t be denied.

My love saved me in so many ways, my little bird.

I could forget the pain and burdens.

I could forget the fear that the monster would return. Or worse, that I would be like him.

I could forget it all and leave it where it belongs, in the past.

But I can’t forget Robin or the genuine love I felt for her. I can’t deny that.

Not when I’m so desperate for her.

Not when she needs me in return.

And not when she’s right here, loving me with everything she has and only wanting the same in return.

My memory destroyed me, but love is so much more.

You can’t forget love, no matter how hard you try.

Epilogue

Robin

Two years later

“Toby!” I call as the dog runs from the porch and out into the field. He looks over his shoulder and halts in his path, but I wave him off. He can run if he wants to.

I sway easily on the porch swing, the chatter from inside muted by the screen door and the faint hum of the water flowing from the creek out back. I love it out here, on this property and in this house that John built.

Two years we’ve been here. Making steady progress. It may not