A/N: Thank you so much for continuing to be loyal readers! We're getting close to the finish line, and I really hope you like what I have planned for the last few chapters.

Shoutout to adenei for all the help with betting!

Poor Hermione, right? Too bad Ron doesn't have any idea what's going on…yet.

Chapter 17: "Until you came along."

"So what did you put for the second to last question, the one about torque?" Harry asked, continuing his assault of pestering questions as he and Ron walked back toward their house. "I just want to make sure I used the right equation."

Ron blew out a breath and rubbed his temples, irritation building inside of him. "I don't remember, man. Can you stop? That's the fourth question you've asked about, and you know how much I hate doing this. I'm sure we both did fine, but look, we just had to spend an hour and a half taking the exam. Don't make me fucking relive it once it's finally over."

"Sorry," Harry muttered as he looked away. "Didn't know it bothered you so much."

"It's always bothered me."

The two young men continued down the sidewalk in silence, Ron's hands stuffed into the pockets of his athletic shorts. It was a beautiful spring day, and everyone they passed had a huge smile on their face, basking in the sunlight and celebrating the end of finals. Shouts of joy and laughter rang through the air as they passed house after house with red solo cups littering the front lawn. A light breeze blew through the tree branches, but Ron could barely feel it against his skin. His whole body had felt numb for days.

Since his extremely public fight with Hermione two days prior, he'd felt as though he was sleepwalking through his day. Fortunately, he didn't need that much help in physics and still felt that his last exam went fine, but everything else about his life seemed bland and depressing. Everything he ate tasted like cardboard, which didn't even matter that much since he was often too nauseous to finish a regular meal. The windows of time when he wasn't preparing for the physics test were spent lying in bed and lacking the energy needed to do anything remotely fun. In fact, the whole concept of fun seemed distant and unattainable, like he couldn't even remember what he used to do to pass the time.

"Ron?"

All he could think about was making things right with Hermione. Amidst a sea of vague, confusing, and occasionally morbid thoughts, the one thing that had become crystal clear to him is that she hadn't deserved to be treated the way he treated her. He left her hanging for an important medical appointment, and that was completely unfair of him. Even if he'd wanted to distance himself from her, he should have been more tactful. Which was all ignoring the point that despite the potential pain, he no longer wanted to distance himself from her; in fact, he was trying as hard as he could to come up with something he could say that might prompt her to give him another chance.

"Ron…"

Not that he expected she would really care. He had hurt her multiple times, and she was probably still so angry with him that she wouldn't even respond if he messaged or called her. But even if he expected to fail, he had to try. She meant too much to him. His life just didn't feel complete without her, and he would do anything to prove to her that he still cared about her.

"RON!"

"What?" he asked, whipping his head toward his roommate with a frustrated glare.

"I've asked you like five times if you wanted to stop and get some dinner on the way home. It's like the lights are on but nobody's home in there."

"Oh. Sorry. Guess I'm just…I dunno, probably tired. Lots of studying lately."

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

Harry let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Want to get some fucking food?!"

"Umm, no, I'm fine. I'm not really hungry."

"Fine," Harry retorted, yanking his backpack strap up higher on his shoulder. "I'm starving, though, so I'm going to split off and grab something. I'll meet you back home."

"Yeah, sounds good. Sorry, man, I think I just need some rest."

"It's fine. I'll see you in a bit."

As he turned away from campus and into their residential neighborhood, Ron's mind drifted back to Hermione.

I should text her. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? She doesn't respond to me, or she texts back that she's still super pissed, right? I guess I can deal with that. It feels like I have to say something. If I don't, I think I might explode. I know I won't be able to concentrate on anything else until things are settled…one way or the other.

But as soon as he arrived home and opened his texts to Hermione on his cell phone, his fingers wouldn't move as directed. Something was causing a mental block and keeping him from typing out a message.

Instead, he crashed down onto the couch and turned on the television, hoping to find something that would distract him. He flipped around for what seemed like an eternity, watching bits and pieces of sporting events and action movies without absorbing a thing. When Harry got home, he offered to play video games with Ron, but Ron turned him down. Their teammate Jack Sloper was having another party at his house that night, but despite previously promising his roommates he would go, Ron informed Harry that he thought he would just skip it and get some more rest. Harry was predictably upset but knew not to push the matter given Ron's obvious peevishness.

Minutes passed, which turned into hours, and Ron barely moved from the couch. It seemed as though he might just fall asleep sprawled out on the futon when he changed the channel and landed on the romantic climax of Jerry Maguire. He sat up and watched, suddenly riveted to the screen. When Renee Zellwegger delivered her classic line, he grabbed the remote, turned off the television, and dashed up to his room, pulling his phone out of his pocket on the way.

Hey…im really sry i screwed up. That was a horrible thing 2 do 2 u and i never shouldve screwed u over 4 ur appt. Can we meet up sometime to talk?

He stared at the message for several minutes after he sent it, hoping to see those three little dots pop up on her side of the screen. But the dots never came, and eventually, he plugged in his phone and set it on the nightstand, a small piece of him accepting that she may never want to talk to him again.

For the rest of the night, he cycled through albums by Tame Impala and Alt-J, trying his best to calm down and take his mind off of his troubles. Even though he knew he was hungry, he didn't feel like eating in the slightest and continued to ignore the rumblings in his stomach. Instead, he spread out across his comforter, staring at the ceiling and frequently checking his phone before letting the slow, melodic music carry him off to sleep.

The next day, Ron awoke in a daze. He couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen asleep so early, and as a result, his internal alarm clock was going off by seven in the morning. Before even moving from his bed, he checked his cell phone, his body sinking further down into the mattress as he realized that Hermione hadn't responded. While he expected to feel completely defeated and like the day was already ruined, instead he was oddly invigorated.

I don't know how much more of this I can take. I have to talk to her. I'll go knock on her door if I have to, but I have to talk to her. I have to know one way or the other.

Unfortunately, it was still seven o'clock in the morning, and nobody else on a college campus would be up so early. Killing time was excruciating, but he tried to take an extra long shower and make sure he looked presentable, taking several minutes to style his hair just right. Afterward, he dug through the refrigerator and, upon finding some eggs and cheese, cooked himself an edible albeit overcooked omelette. By the time he finished eating and cleaned up after himself, it was a quarter to nine.

Close enough.

He pulled on his sneakers and slipped out the front door, closing it quietly to avoid waking his roommates. Throughout the fifteen-minute walk to Hermione's apartment, he kept thinking about what he could say, rehearsing thoughts and ideas and trying to figure out the best way to apologize without sounding like he was pleading with her to take him back. Even though he would definitely do that if he needed to.

When he showed up in front of the apartment and rang the bell, the door opened just a crack, and he could see Parvati's eye peeking at him through the opening. It narrowed as soon as she realized who it was.

"What?" she spat.

"Hi, Parvati, I'm sorry to show up so early, but I was hoping to talk to Hermione. Is she here?"

The door slammed shut, and Ron figured he had his answer. Until he heard the chain sliding out of the lock, at least, after which it reopened, Parvati standing with a menacing posture and blocking the entrance. "No, she's not."

"Oh, okay. Well, do you happen to know when she'll be back? I tried texting her, but she didn't respond."

"And did you consider the possibility that that happened on purpose?" she replied with a scoff.

His shoulders fell, and he hung his head low, staring down at his shoes. "Right, I figured. Well, look…if you see her, would you mind letting her know I'm looking for her? To apologize, I mean. I really fucked up, and I'm trying to make it right."

"You sure did."

"Yeah, I know…trust me, I know. But I'd like…I guess…I just wish I could explain. Hermione…she means a lot to me, and I'd love to just be able to talk to her, tell her what was going through my head. If she still hates me after that, then at least I tried, you know?"

To his surprise, Parvati's expression softened a bit, and she glanced away with a soft sigh. "I don't know…"

"Sure. Well, maybe think about it? I'm sorry again for bothering you so early. Enjoy the weekend," he said, turning and starting back down the sidewalk.

He had only gotten a few steps away from the house when Parvati released an irritated growl. "Ughhh, Ron, stop," she called, walking back toward him.

Spinning back around, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched her face shift from anger to anxiety. She was twisting her finger in the hem of her t-shirt, and her eyes were shifting around the yard.

"Yeah?"

"Look, if you're just fucking around, or if you're not serious about her, then tell me now."

Ron gave his head a strong shake, trying his best to convince Parvati that he was trustworthy. "I swear, I'm not fucking around. I really want to try to make things right with her."

"Because if you hurt her or break her heart all over again, I'll personally hunt you down and pluck your eyeballs out of your skull, you got it?"

She was heartbroken? God, what have I done?

"No, Parvati, I promise. That's the last thing I want."

She folded her arms across her chest, her forehead wrinkled with consternation as she shuffled back and forth on the balls of her feet. It was making Ron even more nervous; why was she so anxious this morning?

"Look," she started, kicking a small pebble across the walkway, "I'm not sure Hermione would want me telling you this. It's not really my news to share, you know?"

"Okay…"

"But luckily for you, I happen to believe you. So I'm going to make a judgment call and fill you in, even at great risk to my friendship with my best friend. You swear I can trust you?"

Fill me in on what? Jesus, what happened?

"Yes…please," Ron urged.

"Okay," she started, exhaling a deep breath. "Something happened last night, and she got really sick…really fast. It was terrifying. I'm still not totally sure what happened, but she texted me this morning and said it looks like her pacemaker broke somehow. I don't really know. But anyway, she's at the hospital, and she's probably going to need emergency surgery–"

The rest of the information was irrelevant. Ron quickly thanked Parvati as he bolted across the yard back in the direction of his house. He had to get home as fast as possible so he could get to the hospital as fast as possible so he could see her as fast as possible. His roommates, his friends, celebrating the end of finals…it all faded from his mind in an instant. All of his thoughts centered on her. Nothing else mattered.

Emergency surgery? Fuck, she must be so scared. What could've gone wrong? Her pacemaker was fine, everything looked good. Why does her life have to be so unfair?

Within a few blocks, his legs were burning, but he spurred them on and pushed through the pain. While the walk to her apartment had taken fifteen minutes, running home only took him five, and as he burst through the front door, Harry jumped off the couch in a panic.

"Fuck, dude, what are you doing?" he asked as the milk from his cereal bowl seeped down the side of his leg.

"No time, Hermione's at the hospital, gotta go!" Ron yelled as he grabbed his car keys and pulled the door shut behind him. He jumped in the car, fumbling to start the ignition and check his mirrors before peeling out of the driveway. As he sped off toward the hospital, he did his best to get there as quickly as possible, bending a few of the rules of the road and rolling a couple of stop signs along the way. The whole way there he kept hoping that he'd arrive in time to talk to her before…whatever had to happen would happen.

Once the car screeched to a halt in a parking space, he dashed through the lot and into the doors of the main entrance. Several people were already waiting, so he tried to be patient as he waited his turn.

Come on, come on! This is an emergency!

"May I help you?" he finally heard as he was beckoned by a staff member.

"Yes," he said, hurrying forward toward the desk. "I'm looking for Hermione Granger. She's probably on the cardiology floor."

"And you are?"

That was an excellent question. Who was Hermione to him? A friend? Hopefully. A girlfriend? Not anytime soon, but perhaps someday. At the moment, though, she was just…his tutor.

Fuck.

"Umm, we work together at the university," he said, knowing it was a stretch.

"I'm sorry," the employee said, leaning back in her chair and glaring at Ron over the top of her glasses. "Unless you're a family member of the patient or the patient has specified ahead of time that you can visit, then I can't let you in."

There was no way Hermione put me on a list of people that could visit her. How could I not have considered this? Of course they wouldn't let someone in who just claims to be her friend. That would be insane. But then again, I guess I wasn't really thinking on my way over here. I just…went.

His shoulders dropped as he gave a downcast nod. "I see. Okay, I'm sorry. I suppose I'll, uhh…yeah."

"You're welcome to wait in the food court area; nobody needs a pass to be there. But I'm sorry, you can't go further than that without authorization."

"Right, I get it. Just over there?" he asked, gesturing towards a coffee cart around the corner.

"That's correct. Next in line, please!"

As he slipped out of the way of the other visitors, he couldn't help but feel dejected. The outcome was obvious, and he probably should've realized it before he rushed over to the hospital, but he didn't want to just leave and go home. If Hermione was still in the hospital somewhere, then that's where he wanted to be.

After grabbing a large cup of coffee, he found an empty seat by the window and sat down, staring out at the perfectly manicured front lawn of the hospital. Cars were coming and going, picking up and dropping off, speeding off to their next destination. They all had a purpose, a reason for showing up. But he was just…stuck. Stuck waiting for someone who probably didn't even want him around.

He lost track of time as he let his eyes wander over the hustle and bustle of the front entrance, and he was in such a trance that he barely noticed the voice calling out to him.

"Ron?"

The sound was coming from the entrance to the dining area. Ron stood up and tilted his head to get a better look and squinted, catching sight of Mrs. Granger walking toward him.

"Ron, is that you?" she asked as she approached his table.

"Oh, Mrs. Granger, hi. Yeah, I'm sorry. I, uhh…I didn't mean to intrude or whatever, but I heard from Hermione's roommate that she was here, so…umm, here I am."

The older woman looked him up and down, a quizzical look on her face. It told him that Hermione had almost certainly told them about what had happened, meaning Mrs. Granger probably thought he was the world's biggest asshole.

A moment later, though, she stepped forward, smiled at him, and wrapped him in a quick hug. "It's good to see you. Thank you for coming, that was very kind of you."

Ron was dumbstruck, and he clammed up, not having any idea what to say. At best, he'd expected a polite yet frosty welcome from Hermione's mother. Instead, she was welcoming him into what was surely a very tense situation. Maybe she was still in the dark?

Although, that would only prompt another issue. Even if her mother was willing to give him another chance, there was no guarantee that Hermione would be so forgiving. The last thing he wanted was to make her upset during such a stressful time, but he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. If he was sitting at home, he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything and would probably end up pacing the floors of his bedroom until he wore down the carpet.

"I heard that the two of you had a bit of a falling out," Mrs. Granger said as she mirrored him and sat back down at the table.

"Oh," he replied, his stomach instantly twisting on itself. "Well, yeah, we did."

"Recently, no?"

"Just a few days ago, I guess."

"And yet you're still here."

All of the saliva had evaporated from his mouth, but he still tried to swallow. "I am."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad."

Why was this happening? Why was she being so nice to him? Not that he wasn't grateful to her; without her help, he'd probably be sitting in the cafeteria all day, completely in the dark about what was happening. At least this way he'd have some connection to her. But still, it didn't make any sense.

"Mrs. Granger?" he asked, his heart racing as he glanced up at her. "If you know your daughter's angry with me, then why are you doing this? Why did you even come over here? Not that I don't appreciate it, but…"

Jean Granger laid her purse down on the table as she took a deep breath. "Ron, I like to think I know my daughter pretty well. I know her strengths and her weaknesses, and I see all the attributes that will allow her to do well in life as well as those that may hold her back in certain situations. Over the last twenty-one years, I think I've come to acquire a good understanding of her idiosyncrasies, and I've also learned how to interpret her words and her reactions."

"Okay…"

"And most importantly, I know when she's passionate and excited about something. She tries to hide it, but she's my only child. Contrary to what some parents say, her actions are not that much of a mystery to me."

Ron shook his head and knitted his eyebrows together. "I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"The way Hermione talks about you…it's like nothing I've ever seen before. I suppose I was lucky when she was growing up. In high school, she didn't seem to take a big interest in boys, and the ones she did all seemed to be temporary crushes at the most. I never really had to worry about that kind of thing with her. Until you came along."

No, it couldn't be true. And even if Mrs. Granger was truly that perceptive, there was no way Hermione's feelings were still there after the events of the last week. And yet, even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, he couldn't help but feel a rush of blood to his head and a slight sense of lightheadedness.

"I don't…I mean, I think you're…"

"Ever since we met you that day on campus, she's been…evasive. Quick to change the subject. Blushing all the time. And she can't stop looking at her phone and smiling."

"Maybe it was just a funny video on YouTube or something."

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes and smirked. "It's not YouTube, Ron. It's you. You seem like a smart young man; surely you've noticed something. Now, I don't know what happened over the last few days, and I don't mean to overstep, but…well, I'll just be honest. It didn't seem to me like she wanted…whatever was happening to be over. We had dinner the other night, and it was plainly obvious that she was thinking about you the entire time."

"Really?" he asked, his eyebrows raising with anticipation.

"Really. And I was prepared to just drop it, assume that things didn't really work out, and move on since it was none of my business, but then you showed up here. And I'm sorry, but I can't imagine you're here just because you're being nice to a person who tutored you for a couple months. So, now I'm wondering if you're both actually thinking the same thing and are just…missing an opportunity."

Fuck, she's good. I can see where Hermione gets her smarts from.

He was left speechless. Of course he wanted all of the things she said to be true. They were true, at least the parts about him. How Hermione felt, though…that might be a different story.

Behind them, Mr. Granger approached, catching a glimpse of his wife in the crowd of people. He looked confused as he saw her with Ron, but when his wife grinned at him and patted the seat next to her, he stepped closer and shook Ron's outstretched hand before sitting down.

"Good to see you again, Ron," Mr. Granger said as he pulled his chair closer to the table. "Are you…ummm…well, what brings you here?"

God, this is so awkward. Just…be honest, I guess?

"Oh, I was telling your wife that I talked with Hermione's roommate who mentioned that she was here. In retrospect, I guess I should've thought ahead and figured out that they wouldn't just let me in. But I don't know, I wasn't really…thinking at the time."

Richard Granger's face looked impressed, approving, and more than a little nervous all at once. "I see."

"I wonder, though, if it maybe wasn't the best idea…"

"Nonsense, Ron," Mrs. Granger said, her voice earnest. "We're glad you came. I'm sure it would brighten Hermione's day as well."

"Not–not that it's any of my business or anything, but is she okay?" Ron spat out almost involuntarily. "I mean, you don't have to answer. It's not like I'm family or anything, right? But I just…I'm hoping she's okay."

"She's okay," Mrs. Granger started. She spoke with slight trepidation but continued nonetheless. "And I think we can fill you in a little bit."

"As long as you're sure, I'd really appreciate it."

She cleared her throat before continuing. "Basically, the wire that attaches her pacemaker to her heart broke. Or…was dislodged? Or something like that."

"Right, her roommate mentioned something to that effect."

"Yes, well, either way, the upshot is that it's no longer in close enough proximity to the heart to make it beat appropriately. So they're going to put in a new one, but it has to be via open heart surgery to make sure it works properly and she doesn't have this problem again in the future."

Jesus, this whole thing sounds awful! I'm glad I get to hear about it, but poor Hermione. I wonder what's going through her mind right now?

"The doctors were telling us about the procedure," Mr. Granger added, "although it sounded quite confusing. Different wires they were going to attach…something about safeguarding against problems that could arise down the line."

"Atrial leads?" Ron asked, even surprising himself at his forwardness. It didn't help when they both looked at him as though he had two heads. "Or, umm, ventricular?"

Mr. Granger loosened one of the buttons of his polo shirt and leaned back in his chair. "You see, Ron, Hermione's had plenty of heart rhythm problems in the past, but they were always controllable with medication. All of this pacemaker stuff is new to us. We understand the cardiovascular system better than most people, but to be honest, some of what the doctors were explaining went over our heads."

His wife nodded in agreement. "It's true. There are so many facets to the human heart, so many things that can, unfortunately, go wrong. We're dentists, not medical doctors, so we're learning as we go."

"But not to you, it seems," Mr. Granger added, tipping his head in Ron's direction. "I'm impressed that you seem to know enough about how these things work to ask intelligent questions. I have to ask, son, are you pre-med as well?"

For a moment, Ron froze, hoping the saliva would return to his mouth sometime soon. "Oh. No, no, I'm not. Never been a big fan of…all of this, to be honest," he said, gesturing around the entire area.

Hermione's father stared back at him, still looking confused. "So…in that case, how do you know about all of these things?"

The question made Ron pause and think. His brain wasn't moving fast enough, but he knew he had to say something soon.

Should I just tell them how much Hermione means to me and admit that I only learned those things because of her? Or would that be weird, especially since they know that Hermione's upset with me at the moment? After all, they barely know me…we ran into each other once. Shit, I'm not ready for this.

But it's all for Hermione, right? Just do what's best for her.

"Umm, well, I suppose I started reading about them after she filled me in on the one they put in a few weeks back. I couldn't necessarily make sense of everything, but I was able to get the general idea even though I'm not really into medicine, per se. It's really interesting technology."

Her parents glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, seemingly communicating through the kind of non-verbal connection only possible when two people have been together for a long time. A moment later, they looked back at him.

"Would you be willing to explain it a little more to us, Ron?" Mrs. Granger asked. "Hermione's told us bits and pieces, but we try not to badger her for too much information now that she's over eighteen. Her physicians are fantastic as well, and I'm sure their explanation was quite thorough, but sometimes they assume we know more than we actually do because we've been in this world for so long, you know?"

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. "Oh, sure. I'd be happy to."

All of the reading he had done about her pacemaker came in handy as he gave them as detailed a rundown of how the device worked as he could. He talked about how it was connected to her, how the pacemaker sent electrical impulses to the heart, and how sometimes people needed wires attached to both the upper and lower chambers of the heart to make the heart beat correctly. Then he made sure to tell them about how it responded to her activity, and, most importantly, how it hadn't really changed what she was able to do on a day-to-day basis.

By the time he was done, they seemed noticeably more relaxed. That put him at ease as well, or at least as much as was possible given the circumstances.

"Thank you, Ron. You have no idea how helpful that was for us," Mr. Granger said with a smile. "It's nice for us to keep up when we can as her parents…even though Hermione is in charge of her medical care now."

"Of course, I totally understand."

Quiet blanketed the space again, and Ron was left feeling conflicted. Helping her family understand her pacemaker a bit better made him feel useful, but the longer he stayed, the more he wondered if he was intruding on a moment that he had no right to be a part of. They probably didn't want a random kid to be hanging around during one of the most stressful days of their lives, and that's not even considering what Hermione would say when she woke up.

"Anyway," Ron said, pushing back from the table, "I'll give you all some space. It was great to see you again, and thanks for filling me in–"

"You're not staying? You're more than–" Mrs. Granger asked, her face dropping with disappointment.

"Now, dear," Mr. Granger interrupted. "I'm sure Ron has things to do. If I'm not mistaken, finals just ended, did they not? I'm sure he'd like to be out celebrating."

"Oh, no, it's not that," Ron said as he fidgeted with the keys in his pocket. "I just thought…well, I wasn't sure…"

Mrs. Granger slid her hand across the surface of the table, placing it on his arm. "Ron, would you like to stay?"

His head tilted toward the floor, hoping that she wouldn't catch the pink tinge in his cheeks. He doubted she would ever appreciate how much the offer meant to him. Hermione's shit list was probably just his name over and over again, and yet they were still extending him the courtesy. It made him feel welcome in a way he figured it would take years to achieve with a girl's parents. "Yes," he stated quietly.

"Alright. We'll have to leave it up to Hermione whether you can see her once she's out of surgery, but we're all just waiting for the next several hours, and this cafeteria seems as good a place as any…"

"Right, and I appreciate that. But, I mean, look, I don't know if Hermione would…because it's really not my place…like, you know that she's not exactly thrilled with me at the moment, so–"

"Ron, stop. It's a common space. You're more than welcome here with us. And when Hermione wakes up and is starting to feel better, we'll tell her that you were here. What she decides from there is up to her, but I think it's sweet that you're here, and I think it's sweet that you want to stay."

"I agree," Mr. Granger added, albeit with a more awkward tone.

Ron took a deep breath and tossed his hands in the air. "Well…thank you. I really do appreciate it. But–"

Mrs. Granger held up a hand to stop him. "Look, when we talk to Hermione, we'll make it clear that we asked you to stay. We'll just be honest with her, tell her how helpful you were in explaining all of this to us, and she can take it from there. But it's obvious to me that she still has feelings for you, and it's also obvious to me how much you care about her. I suspect that, deep down, she will recognize that as well. So I'll ask again; would you like to stay?"

Of course that's what he wanted. All of the reasons Ron had come up with to not be with Hermione went flying out the window. All of the fear, the uncertainty, the worrisome possibilities…all of them evaporated. A sense of clarity came over him as he thought about the proposal. Everyone had problems. And being in a relationship with someone means accepting their problems as your own. Perhaps Hermione's problems were bigger or scarier than most, but he'd rather be with her and help her through them together than suffer apart. If he could convince her that he deserved another chance, he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

Gratitude toward her parents swelled in him, and he smiled at them. "Thank you. I'd love to stay."

I'm in it. I'm in it, and I want to be in it. Screw the consequences. Who cares if I get hurt. I'm in it.