Page 79 of Ruthless
"Maybe," I said. "If I had a reason to."
His hand found mine again, and this time his grip tightened—not desperate, but certain. Like he was anchoring himself to me, or me to him.
"I'm hoping to give you one." His voice was rough at the edges. "But Sarah—if you decide otherwise, if London is where you need to be, I'd come there. I'd stay."
I turned to face him fully then, searching his expression for the catch, the qualification. There wasn't one. "You'd do that? Leave everything—your work, your whole life—for me?"
"I'd do anything for you."
He said it simply, the way you'd state an obvious fact.The sky is blue. Water is wet. I'd do anything for you.
He stepped closer, closing the small distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill in the air. His hand rose to my face, his palm cradling my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with unbearable tenderness. I looked up at him and found his eyes already waiting for mine—those eyes I'd spent months trying not to think about, failing every single time.
"W-why?" The word came out broken, barely a whisper. I hated how vulnerable I sounded, but I needed to understand. After everything, after all the ways I'd been left and abandoned and disappointed, I needed to hear him say it.
"Because I love you, Sarah."
No hesitation. No qualifiers. Just four words that rearranged the entire architecture of my world.
And then he leaned down and kissed me.
His lips were warm and soft, and he kissed me like I was something precious, something worth crossing oceans for. My hands found the front of his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric, pulling him closer.
When we finally broke apart, I was trembling, and I realized with some surprise that I was crying. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs, his forehead resting against mine.
"I love you too," I breathed. "I think I have for a long time. I was just too scared to?—"
He kissed me again, softer this time, and I felt like I was floating, untethered from gravity, from fear, from every defense I'd ever built.
How incredible it was, that after everything I'd been through, I'd managed to arrive here. After the loss that had shattered me. After the years of putting myself back together, piece by jagged piece.
We pulled apart again, and just in time to hear little steps come closer to us.
Lily came running back, her bag bouncing against her hip. “Can we get ice cream? Please? To celebrate?”
“Absolutely,” Hector said, not taking his eyes off me. “Whatever you want.”
We walked out into the London afternoon—Lily between us, chattering about her performance and asking if we’d seen her best turn. Hector’s hand was still holding mine and I didn’t let go.
For the first time in months, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Not because the past was erased or the pain forgotten — but because we’d chosen to move forward anyway.
Together.
