My blood is pumping so loud in my ears. I can still hear the wet crack of Matthew’s ribs shattering beneath my boot. I can still taste the violence on my tongue. I should be reeling from that, but I’m not. I’m high on my girl and what I did for her. High on whatever this is between us.

Her legs dangle over the edge, shoes muddy, hair wild from running. Her cheeks are flushed, her mouth red from the cold, and I swear to God she’s never looked more like mine.

I step between her knees, just close enough to touch, but I don’t. Not yet. I let my fingers tangle in the ends of her hair, twisting it slowly around my knuckles, watching how it coils and catches.

She doesn’t stop me.

I stare at her like I’ll never get enough. I won’t. There’s not a reality where this girl isn’t the entire center of my existence. I could breathe her in for the rest of my life and still feel like I’m starving.

“You can be mad at me,” I murmur. “But I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her lips twitch. And not in the way I want. She pushes against my chest, not hard, but enough to get my attention. Enough to try and put space between us.

“You left me,” she says, and her voice cuts through me.

I don’t defend myself. Not yet. She needs to get this out, everything she’s been bottling up for the last six months.

She glares at me like she’s daring me to lie, but I don’t say anything. I cup her face in my hands and hold her still, because she doesn’t get to look at me like I’m a stranger. Not when every beat of my heart has been synced to hers since the day we met.

I don’t have time to explain everything to her right now, but I will. “I’m never going to be apart from you again,” I say. “Not for anything.”

“I was going to kill him myself,” she says, voice low, like maybe she hasn’t ever said that out loud.

My jaw flexes and I shake my head slowly. “You shouldn’t have had to worry about him or anyone.”

I brush my fingers across her cheek, then cup the back of her neck. She stiffens beneath my hand, but I’m quick to move my hand to grip her chin. I tilt her face to mine, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Look at me.”

She does.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that back there. I could not handle knowing he was alive and walking around thinking it was okay to put his hands on you.”

Her expression falters. Her eyes glisten, not quite tears, but close. “He never got the chance.”