Wrapping my arms around his middle, I squeeze him tight. "Thank you."
He pushes me out in front of him and I notice his eyes have glossed over. I do a double take, not quite understanding the sadness I see within their depths. Not wanting to. . .
My throat tightens.
"You're my life, Cassidy Slater," he says, trailing his fingers down my cheeks. "Now, with your perfect face. While you're so beautiful it fucking hurts. And when your belly is swollen with my babies and you're grumpy and a pain in the arse, then too. And when you're old and grey and for some fucking reason still putting up with all my shit. You're my life."
I can't breathe.
I can't think. I don't want to hear any of this. Not liking the break in his throat, the shudder to his voice, I shake my head slowly. "Why are you saying this?"
He grits his teeth, fighting back emotion, his face lightly veiling so much pain. "I'm going away."
My lip trembles uncontrollably. "Where are we going?" Spinning away from him, I cover my face, tears bursting out too fast to control. No.
"Don't do that." He twists me back to face him, his jaw pulsing when he sees my tears. "Hold on to the feeling from before. Don't cry. They want me to plead guilty for possession of an illegal firearm and assault on an officer."
"You didn't assault anyone!" I cry.
"Actually. . . I did." He nods with a show of regret. "They can't get me for anything else. Jimmy made sure of that. We are hoping for thirty-six months, out on parole at twenty-four."
No. No.
"No. No. No," I chant, shaking my head violently, feeling dizzy, feeling my world fall to pieces. My legs give out from under me and my knees hit the grass, giving up. I'm giving up.
He grips my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. "Listen to me, little one."
"No."
"Listen," he growls, but he's not angry. It is aggression manifesting from passion, and I understand it all too well.
I want to scream.
Shriek.
I ball my hands into fists.
"While I'm in, I need you to be the bravest you have ever been. Don't disappear in here." He presses his big, warm hands to my cheeks, tapping one of his forefingers on my temple. "Be you. Bubbly. A silly little girl. Soften my brothers' lives."
I can’t see him now, not through the tears.
So many tears.
"I can't do this without you!" I cry.
"Do what?
I gasp for air as sobs begin to cripple my body, anger disappearing into a melting pot of despair. "Anything! Live. Breathe!"
He kisses my lips quickly, our mouths coated in my tears. He pulls back and wipes at my face, thumbs moving under my eyes and around my cheeks, but more salty water rains down. I'm helpless to stop them.
Helpless to save him.
Us.
"Are you kidding me?" His brows draw in tight with severity. "You're the fucking boss, Cassidy. You run things for us now. You can do anything without me."
"No."
"Stop saying no."
I squeeze my eyes shut, holding them that way as I shake my head over and over. No.
"Look at me." He tries to pull me back to him, to a place where he breaks my heart. But I don't want to go. Don't want to hear it. Don't want to be a part of this conversation. "You're not just little Cassidy Slater anymore. I'm not sure you ever were. . . You're my girl. Strong. Fierce."
I open my eyes to find his are narrowed and locked on mine, ready to dive straight inside and drag me out and back to a place where I am whole.
I blink tears out. "But. . . I. Need. You," I whisper, each one vibrating out of my heart-broken little body.
He swallows his emotions down again. "Do you know what I need?"
Sucking a big breath in, I try to steady my panic. "I don’t know anything."
"I need you to be my wife."
What?
He kneels on the grass in front of me.
Oh my God, what is he doing?
I cover my mouth with both hands, blinking tears over the top of them.
"I need your last name to be Butcher, so everyone knows you're mine." When he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring box, I completely stop breathing. No, no, I don't stop breathing. The air doesn't exist anymore; this moment is so monumental that the atmosphere around us is thick with emotion. So thick that I can't find the oxygen between the fibres of our feelings. He flicks the box open and my eyes widen further.
"It's not a diamond. I didn't think you'd want a diamond after-" He clears his throat. "And I don't want anything dirty touching your perfect fucking hands. It's a ruby. A really rare ruby. I paid for this with clean money, little one.
"Look at the block. That house will take eighteen months, maybe two years, to build. By the time I get out, it'll be ready for us. Ready for us to start our life together."
My heart is being wrenched around, aching with absolute sadness, flipping with so much love. I want to say something. Want to respond. I don't have the words though - they're lost in my mind, smothered by confusion. Am I happy? Sad? Both? Every fricking emotion at once? I can't . . . can't think straight.
"You know who I am," he says with a seriousness and sternness that knots my stomach up with conflicting truths. I love him. More than life. More than anything. But I know who he is. . . Yes. "You know what I do. It'll always be a part of me. What I need to know is. . . are you in this with me anyway?"
I find myself nodding. Because I am. I always have been. Then I move my hands away and breathe out, "Yes."
He takes the ring from its satin mould. "Is that a yes to being Cassidy
