Page 107 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“Apparently Iamin constant danger,” Bridget said, gesturing to her face.

“You do sort ofcourtit sometimes, Bridget,” Gwen said, softly exasperated. “Although admittedly, you weren’t trying to this time. I’m just saying that perhaps a fifty percent reduction of life-threatening or violence-inducing situations might help. That’s all.”

“I know,” Bridget said. “I’ll think about it. I swear.”

Gwen stopped hovering by the door and came to sit with her. “I like your hair,” she said. “You look handsome. I like seeing all of your face.”

“I look like a novice monk,” said Bridget. “But thanks.”

“It’s good,” Gwen said. “Can I…?” She lifted her hand, and Bridget tilted her head slightly to meet it. Gwen’s fingers scratched gently across her scalp, down behind her ears, and Bridget closed her eyes and focused on that feeling alone.

“You look like you,” Gwen said. “But even scarier. Which is better, obviously.”

“You think I’m scary?”

“I’mnot scared of you, but other people are, and so they should be.”

“Didn’t feel very scary, tied up on an apple crate,” said Bridget. “Thanks for saving me.”

“To be honest, I didn’t do much of the hard work,” said Gwen. “I just took the glory. And won the girl.”

“Hmm. I don’t feel like much of a girl,” said Bridget, running a hand over the soft bristles of her hair. “Don’t look like one either. Don’t know if I want to.”

“Well, whatever you are, I’d like to think I won you regardless.”

“You did,” said Bridget. “Again. And always.” She took Gwen’s hands in hers almost absentmindedly, and then with sudden intent. Something lifted in her chest as she did; the removal of some unseen weight, such a palpable shift that she almostfelt teary-eyed. She’d been wrong, before, to say that Gwen didn’t know her. To be seen for who she was, to lay out all the mistakes and faults she thought would make her unworthy, and still be met with kindness and a gentle hand.…Thiswas what it felt like to be known. Gwen cocked her head, curious, and Bridget got up from the bed and sank to her knees.

“Bridget,” Gwen said, alarmed. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I will. I am. I just need to say something first.”

Gwen just looked at her, lips slightly parted in consternation, waiting.

“I still don’t know what I’m going to do now. It always felt so… clear, before. Had this one path, one purpose. And I was going to make everybody proud. I think… maybe I have done that already, a bit, and maybe there are other ways to do it in the future, and maybe… I don’t know, maybeI’mthe one I should want to make proud.”

She reached for her sword, drew it, and held it up, flat across her palms. Gwen’s eyes were alight as she watched. “But knight or not, whether I’m a noble, a mercenary, a thief, a damnedmonk…I swear myself in service to you. I will protect you, speak the truth to you always, honor you with my life and deeds. I will shield you with my body and keep you with my heart. My sword is yours. I don’t know if you meant it when you said you loved me the other day—but I love you.”

Gwen reached out to touch the hilt of the sword. “Bridget… I don’t need you to doanyof that except love me.”

“Sorry,” said Bridget. “I don’t think I can be any other way.”

Gwen reached for her face and ran her finger, gentle as a whisper, over her brow and the bruising at her temple. “I know.”

When Gwen kissed her it felt like forgiveness. Maybe shewasturning into a damned monk. All she knew was that this felt right, and even if she didn’t know who she’d be tomorrow, she knew who she was now. She let her sword clatter to the floor—just this once—so that she could rise up from her knees and ease Gwen back onto the bed to kiss her properly.

“Careful,” Gwen said, breathless, and Bridget moved away.

“Sorry. Are you—?”

“I meant be careful foryou,” Gwen said, ghosting her thumb around the bruises again. “Fool.”

“I don’t want to be careful,” Bridget said. Her hands found Gwen’s waist so that she could tug her closer, quick and fast, making Gwen’s breath catch. It had always been push and pull with them, but more than anything right now, Bridget wanted to be present. Alive. In control of this moment, and the next, even if the future remained uncertain.

It felt like they were confirming the oath, and between long, open kisses and the feeling of Gwen warming under Bridget’s hands, Gwen made one back to her in broken whispers.

“I love you,” she said. “I mean it.” And: “I’ll serve you too. I’ll try. The best I can.”

Forty-Five