Page 49 of Bathed in Blood

I give him a soft smile, kissing him lightly on the lips, and even here, my body hums, wanting more, everything he has to give. “I wasn’t alone.”

He clenches his jaw. “Still, I’m your husband—”

“Hush, it's fine. You’re still getting used to this. You don’t have to be perfect, not for me.”

Seeing softness bleed into his eyes never fails to give me butterflies, especially knowing it's reserved for me. My head is above water as he tugs me in front of him, wrapping me in his warmth as the breeze shifts my long red hair. It’s scorchingly hot today, which seems fitting. It’s like everything, no matter how devastating, has come full circle. I can see Mom from the top of the cemetery where we stand, watching the service from afar. Her body is hunched over, still, and she doesn’t look my way, not since we first arrived. The look of horror and guilt wasn’t the reaction I had expected, but it didn’t affect me the way I thought it would. She had to have known who paid for Lewis’s remaining medical bills, had some clue about the generous good Samaritan who paid for the lavish funeral, the onyx black headstone reflecting the sun.

I sniffle, letting myself grieve the same person for the hundredth time until I watch Mom stand, a sunflower in her hand that she tosses into the hole they lowered him into. She stands there for so long, I wonder if she’ll jump in after him, but she doesn’t. She turns and looks up towards me, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. My heart stops in my chest as she nods, her form blurring. I did everything I set out to do: I saved the sun. I was the best big sister ever, until the end. Even if there were times he hated me, times I resented him just as much, I loved that sweet little boy with the messy hair and bright eyes. I would save him all over again.

“I want to go home now.”

“Of course,” Christian whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before picking me up.

My head goes light as he cradles me in his arms, looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. My smile is a real one, one I feel in my chest. “You know, you make a pretty good knight after all.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. His left arm hurts him most days, but with physical therapy slowly helping him regain full strength, he might have full use again one day. “Anything for you, princess.”

The wink he gives me is devastating. All those nights I spent whispering about the faceless knight, the adoring husband who would stand by my side, I never imagined I would have it, that, one day, I’d wake up again.

That one day, I’d look forward to the next.

The end