Page 129 of Exposing Colorado

He pulls back, honey-gold eyes wide. “We’re talking about his height, right?”

Smacking his arm with a laugh, I soak in the sight and feel of his presence. I’m afraid that if I look away too long, he'll disappear. In moments like this, it’s easy to pretend that he didn't almost die last year and that I might have never held him again.

That thought brings memories from the night of the crash flowing back, and curiosity gets the better of me. “Have you heard from Devon at all?”

Just like that, the mood shifts. Logan’s smile falters, his hand slipping away from my waist as he stares toward the fire pit. “No. Not since the hospital ten months ago. Christian hasn't, either.”

I reach for his hand again. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I don’t know. Called him about a hundred times, but... no answer. I don't think he wants to talk to me.”

My chest aches for him. Not for Dev, but for my husband, who seems to care way too much about people who don't deserve it.

I cup his cheek and redirect his attention back to me. “You're always chasing after ghosts, baby. Maybe it's time to let one chase you back.”

He leans into my touch with a sad smile. “Like you?”

“Me,” I nod, kissing him softly. “And Owen. And anyone else who’s lucky enough to have you.”

“Do we have each other, Salem? To have and to hold, until death do us part?”

A lump rises in my throat when I realize what he's asking. “Technically, we already did the death part.”

A broken laugh crawls out of him. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

“Everything after that is our choice.”

His fingers trail down my arm to touch the ring on my finger. “Then I choose you. In whatever way that means for us. Married, divorced, I still want you as my partner in life, no matter what.”

My heart leaps ten different ways at his loving gaze, stealing my breath.

“So, tell me,” he continues. “What do you want, Salem? Because I'm all in if you are.”

I search his eyes, relishing in the hope that shines there. When I reach into the back pocket of my jeans to withdraw the divorce papers, they come out wrinkled and worn, edges soft from how many times I've unfolded them late at night.

There was once a time when I thought that these papers were the only way forward. I thought that letting him go was the kindest thing I could do for us both, because I didn't know how to love him without losing myself. But standing here now, with his hand in mine and his heart wide open, I realize that letting him go never made me feel free. It just made me feel hollow.

“I've carried these with me for months,” I whisper, staring down at the pages. “Everywhere I went, I kept them close like some kind of failsafe. A get out of jail free card.”

Logan stays quiet, and I meet his gaze with a certainty that settles deep in my bones.

“I always thought that loving someone came with shackles, but I understand now that the right kind of love doesn't feel like a cage. It feels like that first breath of air, the ground beneath your feet when you step off the plane. Something you reach for without question because you know it'll be there every single time.” I swallow hard as my pulse hammers in my ears. “I was so afraid of losing my heart to you, Logan, but having it in your hands has set me free.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, I step toward the fire pit and toss the papers into the flames.

They catch instantly, charring as fire claims every signature, every line of legal jargon that threatened to rip us apart.

Behind me, I hear Logan gasp, and I turn to see him gaping at the fire with wide eyes.

“You sure?” he asks dazedly, watching them ignite.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

My husband crosses the space between us in two long strides before cupping my face in both hands. “You just gave me back everything I've ever wanted.”

A tear slips free as I offer him a crooked smile. “You never lost it. You just… had to wait for me to catch up.”

His lips crash into mine fiercely, kissing away every mile, every doubt, every minute we spent apart. It's devouring, all-consuming, the type of kiss that isn’t about rekindling something that died, but reclaiming what never stopped burning.