Hi everyone! Sorry it took me so long to update this! I just wanted to make the ending satisfying, and I hope this is! I'm open to writing an epilogue, if you guys are open to reading one! Let me know! And thanks :)))

The room was bathed in a cool blue light, lending it a sense of surreal serenity. A light breeze greeted me as I walked up to the open window, the moon gazing back at me with a calm countenance.

What could I say to him?

I didn't want to lose him, and that was the only scenario playing in my mind. What was I thinking? How could I possibly admit my feelings? He would laugh in my face, but not before he gave me a bottle of wine for saving his life. Such a stupid gentleman.

But how could I let them fester in me, possibly unrequited, any longer? How could I continue to keep silent when he was in a hospital bed with broken ribs and bruises and finger marks on his neck?

I couldn't.

I couldn't any more than I could stop myself from thinking how desolate my life would be without him. My life, which, while vastly imperfect, was just fine before he walked back into it, would be pointless if he were made to exit it. I hated that now he seemed to have the monopoly on my happiness.

All my life, I have been made to be a certain way. Cold, independent, alone. It mystified me how one stupid person, one stupid person who spread-eagles his whole body across the bed when he sleeps and is OCD about his shoes and has much too wide of a protective streak, could undo a lifetime of distrust and isolation. It mystified me how it was contrived for the two of us to meet, how we could have possibly found our way to each other, and how I could have denied this seemingly cosmic manipulation that sought to bring us together.

What I understood was this: I wanted him. I loved him. And if there was any chance, any chance, that he could feel the same way, I had to take the risk and tell him. I had to hope that it would be enough.

What makes you think it will be enough? an evil voice inside me wondered, digging up his violent words from right before the kidnapping. He resents me! How could I imagine he loved me?

Oh, god, this was all so confusing.

Tearing my eyes away from the moon, I turned them to him. He was sleeping, his face in a slight frown, a 5 o'clock shadow darkening his jaw. So different from the clean-shaven, penguin-suited man of a few days ago. Flicking my eyes up and down his body, I remembered how it felt to have him close to me, to smell his scent and run my hands over his skin. A rush of affection surged through me.

He was the only one.

I took a deep breath.

Now or never, Thorne.

Taking a step towards him, my heart began beating like a drum. I couldn't decide. I stood still for a long moment, listening to his even breathing. He sighed in his sleep and fidgeted, trying to move despite the brace he had on his chest restraining him. I could nearly cry, I needed him so badly.

Every step I made seemed magnified in the overwhelming quiet of the room. Gulping, I inched close enough to touch him, then froze in fear. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

I was the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by chaos and anxiety and terror, yet completely, suddenly: at peace. Immovable. Resolute.

Aiden had to know. Nothing, not even my own fears, could stop me now.

In an act of valor, I poked his shoulder, withdrawing it like his t-shirt had burnt me.

He woke suddenly, moaning a bit. Upon seeing me, his eyes grew concerned.

"What's wrong, what's the matter?" he mumbled, trying (and failing) to sit up, wincing a bit in the process.

"Nothing—nothing's wrong," I managed, looking on with concern, my eyebrows knitted together.

"Here, help me up," he requested, taking my arm in his hand, oblivious to the shot of pure adrenaline it sent coursing through my body. I obliged, putting my other hand on his back and easing him into a sitting position.

"Thank you," he said, before bringing his eyes upward to meet mine expectantly.

"Um," I started, unable to get my lips to move into the desired pattern.

I. Love. You.

It seemed so easy in theory.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to prompt me along, rubbing his bleary eyes with his fists.

I nodded, searching for my words, but coming up empty.

He looked at me patiently. I looked at my hands for a long minute.

"I'm sorry, this was a mistake, go back to sleep," I said abruptly, rising and starting to return to my chair.

Before I could get away, though, a rough hand snatched mine and pulled me gently back. His eyes seemed to bore right through me, making me squirm.

"Tell me what's going on."

It was a demand, a hard glint brilliant in his eye.

"I've tried very hard to be patient. You know where that got me? Dead for two whole minutes, dead without ever—" His hard-edged speech was abruptly abandoned.

His eyes, luminescent in the dark, turned on me with full force. They were soft now, his features relaxed, yet still sent waves of anxiety flowing through me.

"Please. You saved my life. Let me help you in some small way."

I realized his hand was still holding mine, engulfing the smaller in its large grasp.

Closing my eyes, I gave it a squeeze, testing the waters.

He returned one, reassuringly.

Shifting uncomfortably, I started, "Do you—"

I stopped. What could I say? How can I do this?

Quietly, I continued. "Do you remember what you said to me at the bar after Victoria's bachelorette party?"

He tensed.

"I do," he said, the words coming out in a rush, "but I acted like a stupid drunk barbarian and I apologize and although…"

I kissed his hand, gentle as a feather, and he trailed off, looking at me with a dumbstruck expression.

"Emily," he said, a chance for me to take back what I'd just done.

"I love you," I blurted out unceremoniously.

"What?" he asked shakily, alarmed by my whiplash emotions. His eyes were scrunched at me, afraid that it was all a lie. His hands were knotted together in worry.

"I love you, and I'm sorry about everything with Daniel, but I just want you to know that I care for you immensely and I can't—I can't imagine what everything would have been like—" My own tears cut me off.

He leaned forward and caressed my cheek with his hand, the sensation causing my eyes to flutter shut. I smiled into his hand, which I then grabbed and kissed the palm of. I was crying silent tears.

"I've loved you for so long," he said quietly, taking my face in his hands and touching our foreheads to each other. I laughed a bit, because this was better than all my weird nympho sex dreams combined and I couldn't believe it was happening. I kissed him gently then, so stupidly happy I thought my heart was going to explode. He laughed into the kiss, something I haven't heard in a while, something that I recognized as purely him, not his revenge or heartbreak or sorrow. Something that had been there from the beginning, at his very core, that could never be eradicated.

"I'm so happy," he said, with a rare could-not-wipe-it-off-if-I-tried smile on his face, stroking my hair.

"Yeah?" I asked flirtatiously.

He nodded, and the moonlight played off his eyes, and I thought that I finally knew peace, for the first time in my life.