“Okay.” Max braced himself.
Grace licked her top lip, scraping it gently with her teeth, as her shoulders rose. “I want you to tell me that this is real,” she said carefully. “I want you to tell me you want this; that you want me; not that you need me, because you don’t need me any more than you need to drink or get high. I want you to promise me that you’re not going to run away again, that you’ll talk, be honest with me, that we’ll both always fight our demons for ourselves, not each other. And, if you can, if you can do all of that, I’ll swear to you, I’ll do the same.”
Max swallowed as her request wrapped tightly around his heart, trapping his reply in his throat. He breathed, clenched his teeth in an effort to gather himself, and said, “I won’t run again. Ever. And I do want you. I do, Grace. This is real, I promise. I lo— I . . .”
Grace squeezed his hand, halting his struggle with words he hadn’t uttered to anyone for a hell of a long time. “No labels,” she murmured, smiling.
His shoulders dropped in relief. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to say the words. Jesus, he wanted to tell her; he just didn’t know if he could. They’d frightened him beyond reason for so long that, despite feeling what they stood for in every fiber of his body, voicing them to Grace would take time.
“Don’t worry,” Grace added, as if reading his mind. “It’ll come. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m terrified,” Max admitted, repeating his words from the last time they’d made love.
“I know. Me, too. But we’ll find our way.” She entwined their fingers. “Together.”
He dropped his forehead gently to hers, closing his eyes as the weight of what they were choosing pressed on him deliciously, like a winter blanket.
“Tell me something,” she said quietly.
“Anything.”
“What was your question? The night at the gallery, what did you want to ask me?”
Max lifted his head. He raised a hand and cupped the side of Grace’s face, smiling when she leaned into it. His thumb wandered lazily over the apple of her cheek, across her soft skin.
“You said you understood that Lizzie was my first love,” he murmured. “And you were right, she was.”
Grace nodded, her expression solemn. “I know.”
Max stilled. “And my question for you was: Would you be my last?”
Grace gasped a breath that quickly shuddered out of her. Her mouth lifted into the most gorgeous of smiles, as she shivered under Max’s fingertips. She closed her eyes, tears sitting in the corners of them. “On one condition,” she said, looking up at him.
Max smirked but schooled his features quickly, playing along. “Okay, Gracie. What’s the condition?”
“That you kiss me,” she answered without hesitation.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
Max glanced at her glorious mouth, slightly open, lips wet, and cocked an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. She narrowed her eyes playfully but, before she could say anything, Max cupped the other side of her face, leaned down, and kissed her. She hummed into him, grasping his arms, causing Max to lose himself in her taste and her touch all over again.
He was vaguely aware of cheering and whoops that sounded suspiciously like Riley, Tate, and Carter, but he couldn’t have cared less.
All he cared about was the woman wrapped in his arms, whispering her love for him, and the overwhelming sensation of hope that began to bloom among all the parts of him that belonged to his Grace.