He blows out a deep breath, a labored breath, and falls to his knees in front of me. “Cass, I know we’ve been on the fence, but when I saw what happened to you, it killed my soul.”

I stare at him, bewildered.

He continues speaking, continues warming my heart, confirming that this won’t be the end of us and that I can still be happy. “Your pain caused me pain. Is there a possibility I can get in trouble for kicking his ass? Maybe. But I’ll take those consequences if that means he’ll stay away from you.” He abruptly stops, his face nervous and frenzied as he eyeballs me. He grabs my hand in his, massaging the top of it, and softens his voice. “When it comes down to it, yes, I’m falling in love with you. I didn’t go into this thinking that, and it’s only been a couple of months since we started hanging out, so it might be considered early, but you feel what you feel, you know? I’ve never felt this way with anyone, and from what I guess, it’s love because it’s surreal to me.”

Oh.

My.

Freaking.

God.

Did he say that?

I wish I could rewind that moment and listen to it over and over again. All my awareness is on us, on our connection, on our emotions toward each other. I squeeze his hand, my heart jumping in my chest, thankful for finally some happiness and some damn good news. Lincoln has been my savior, and I’m so happy I found a man who knows how to handle me, how to care for me, how to love me. And in part, I’m going to do the same for him.

Dropping his hand, I reach down, and with shaking hands, I cup his chin. Tears fall down my cheeks, my feelings for him finally being thrown out in their truth.

I taste the salt of my tears as I say, “I’m falling in love with you too. I’m sorry for being angry with you … for keeping the Quinton thing … the bruise from you.” My words are all flowing into nearly one, as I’m frantic and scared that I won’t be able to express all my feelings before this moment is over. “I was just in shock, but I love you.”

His hand blankets mine over his face, shaking over my shaking ones, as we pour out our truths like the drinks we serve.

Straight up.

No bullshit.

All honesty.

Me and him.

I sniffle back the tears. Unlike what they’ve been lately, these ones are from relief, from happiness, from the excitement of being loved. He nuzzles his face in my palm, his rough scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin. We relax against each other. It’s as if a tension bubble had been popped.