Chapter Twenty-Five #4
Grier wrapped her other hand around Tobin’s wrist, fingers pressing lightly over her pulse. She didn’t know how Grier did it, but she always seemed to know when Tobin’s heart was racing.
“Your pulse is erratic, Tobin. And… are you shaking?” Grier sounded concerned.
Tobin was starting to regret that she had decided to tell Grier tonight, like this. It was too dark.
She wanted Grier to see her face, to reassure her that her racing pulse and trembling hands were good things—natural things.
She wanted to see Grier’s face when she said the words.
Lub dub, lub dub, in love.
“Ye—yeah.”
She swallowed the lump of nerves that had taken this opportunity to lodge in her throat.
“But, it’s for a good reason. I swear. I—“
But the words died on her lips when a flicker of green fit in the narrow space between their faces. Just a flash—there and gone.
Grier’s gasp of comprehension followed mere milliseconds later.
Suddenly, Grier bolted upright, her excited energy palpable between them as she knelt beside Tobin, their fingers still laced.
“Tobin…”
Her name was a whisper on Grier’s lips. A prayer.
Tobin’s stomach swooped, hearing the reverence in the way Grier said her name, hushed and holy.
This feeling, this sensation, this love she was filled with for Grier was visceral.
She knew it and heard it and saw it. But now—here—in this field, with Grier whispering her name like she was a fucking prayer— she felt it.
In her body.
In every organ and bone.
Crawling along her skin. In every cell and space between.
Grier’s hand tightened over hers, nearly crushing it in her excitement.
She felt more than saw Grier’s body slowly turn. Her head rotated on her shoulders to take it all in: the entirety of the meadow, of the thousands of fireflies now dancing around them, their bodies pulsing in silent rhythms.
The fireflies swooped and flitted around them, faintly illuminating the entire meadow with the beat of their flashing signals. As Tobin’s eyes adjusted to the broader meadow, she could make out more of Grier’s features.
The light cast by the fireflies was subtle, but enough to highlight Grier’s lips, the gentle curve of her nose, the shine in her eyes.
Tobin realized then that Grier was crying—overwhelmed with this immersive display of nature.
She felt her eyes prick with the sting of tears, too.
Lub dub, in love, lub dub, lub dub, in love, in love, in love.
“I love you,” Grier whispered.
Her chest heaved with her confession, and Tobin felt the gravity of the words pulled right from her mouth, hanging in the air between them.
Grier’s eyes searched hers, the light of a million fireflies reflected in their depths while tears coursed over her cheeks.
“I love you, Tobin,” Grier repeated, somehow ever gentler. A tenderness so raw that Tobin felt it cut through her lungs and take her breath away.
Grier released the faintest hiccup, swallowing the emotions caught between their breaths.
“Grier—I…”
But her words dissolved the moment Grier’s lips met hers— firm and warm and so—so—soft. So familiar. So certain.
Grier pulled Tobin’s lower lip between her teeth, and lapped it with her tongue before releasing it. A frustrated whine vibrated through her entire body, and Tobin felt it echo in her core.
Then suddenly—both of Grier’s hands were on her face, aligning their eyes, both sets wet with emotion.
“Don’t say it back,” Grier whispered. “Not now. Not until you’re ready.”
Tobin could feel the warmth of Grier’s breath as she inhaled her expired air.
Grier’s lips fluttered over hers and she continued, “I want you to say it—and I hope you’re as close as I feel like you are.
But tonight, just let me have this. Let me know I told you my feelings, and that there was no requirement, no expectation.
I want to give you that.
I want you to know that you have my heart—all of me— without motive. Just… me.”
Tobin couldn’t speak. There was no oxygen left in her lungs.
Grier’s confession had knocked the air right out of her lungs. Her heart had stopped—only to restart at breakneck speed and shift into her throat.
She hadn’t even considered Grier might say it first. Hadn’t considered what it would do to her—to feel that love, to know it was real, and true and selfless and so fucking perfect.
It physically hurt.
It hurt to feel the power of Grier’s confession and to know— intrinsically—that she felt it too. That she reciprocated it.
It hurt to know that she held these feelings, that she was this close—so close—to having everything she ever wanted.
But she couldn’t say it.
Not because of Grier’s command.
But because she was terrified of saying it—of knowing it, owning it, having it. Only to lose it.
She couldn’t lose it. Because losing it—losing Grier… she wouldn’t survive that.
So, Tobin did the only thing she could do. She kissed Grier. She kissed her long and slow, silently screaming the cocktail of emotions that were sluicing through her brain.
They kissed. They cried. They held each other.
Only Tobin knew her tears were not the same as Grier’s.