11. - – Amelia
CHAPTER ELEVEN
-
AMELIA
Two days later, I'm sitting on the porch overlooking the lake with Christian beside me.
We haven't talked much since we've come home. I think Christian is giving me space to work through everything. I'm still trying to find the words to tell him how sorry I am.
"I told him I'd go back." The confession is quiet, barely above a whisper. Tears sting my eyes as I stare at the water. "I meant it."
Silence.
"He was going to turn you into the government. I told him I wouldn't fight, I'd do anything as long as he left you alone." My voice cracks. The shame is overwhelming.
I wrap my arms around myself. "I'm so weak."
"No." Christian shifts, turning fully toward me. "You survived him for years. You got yourself out. You drove hours, injured and bleeding, to save yourself. You're not weak."
"Then why did I?—"
"Because trauma doesn't disappear just because you want it to." He reaches out, slow, not to frighten me, and cups the side of my face. His thumb brushes away a tear. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"You could have died because of me."
"I didn't."
"But you could have. "
"And I'd do it all again." His tone leaves no room for argument. "Every single time. Without hesitation."
I close my eyes, leaning into his hand. "I don't know how to stop feeling like this. I'm still waiting for someone to tell me what to do next."
Christian's thumb traces the line of my jaw. "Then start small. Tell me what you want right now."
I open my eyes, meeting his. "I want to stay here. With you."
"Then stay."
"I want to stop apologizing for everything."
"Good."
"I want..." I hesitate for a few seconds, "I want you to kiss me."
Christian leans in without another word, capturing my mouth with his. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.
"Better?"
Amelia nods, "better."