“You were having the worst day of your life. And when I opened my mouth to tell you about my diagnosis, it felt like it, like I, could be the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Palmer frowns.

“The last thing you needed in that moment was for someone else to tell you that they might have to need you to take care of them—”

“Cole—”

“And I couldn’t do it to you, Palmer. I couldn’t. I’ve lived my whole life with this baseball mentality of pulling your own weight and being a constructive member of the team. And to feel like a burden—that I would be a burden to you—was more than I could take.”

“You could never be a burden to me.”

Her words pull at my heartstrings.

“I swore to myself that leaving was in your best interest,” I say, my voice softer. “But once I thought about it, really thought about it, I realized that I’d made a decision based on fear, not on love. Love stands through it all, and I knew I’d stand beside you if the roles were reversed.”

A small grin slips across her cheeks.

“It took someone reminding me that true courage is being honest about your feelings,” I say.

A look flashes across Palmer’s eyes.

I smile. “Look, I can’t promise you the future. I’m healthy. I should be strong for a long time, but you never know—”

“I know.” She walks to me again and stops just inches away. “I know the only thing I’ve ever wanted is someone to do life with me. Whatever life is. Whatever happens. And then you came into my world and shook it up. For the first time, I wasn’t scared for the future because I could imagine us together.”

My God, I don’t deserve her.

“Anything could happen, Cole. I could get sick. I could get into an accident on the way home and never walk again.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

She smiles.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I admit. “I went to Cincinnati and couldn’t bring myself to get a ticket to California. Every time I thought about boarding a plane without you, I panicked.”

She touches my cheek again, feathering her thumb over my face.

“I want to be beside you when we’re celebrating and when things aren’t great,” I say. “I want to teach Ethan to play ball or chess or whatever he does. But let’s hope it’s not chess.”

She laughs, her eyes clouding with unshed tears.

I grab her hand and bring her knuckles to my lips. I press a long, lingering kiss against them.

“I’m sorry I left you,” I say. “If you’ll have me back, I’ll never leave you again.”