Sad for him, for everything he’d lost, and the way he’d been carrying it all alone. His grief hurt me as though it were my own.
I sat down beside him, my hand finding his. “I get it,” I said softly.
“I do. You’re not crazy, Steve. You’re grieving.”
He let out a shaky breath, looking at me with such vulnerability that it nearly broke my heart.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I just didn’t want to scare you away.”
“You’re not scaring me away,” I said, squeezing his hand.
“We all have things that haunt us. But we’re in this together now. We can carry this together.”
Steve’s eyes welled up with tears, and I pulled him into a hug, feeling the weight of his pain, his love, his fear, all of it wrapped up in that moment.
“Maybe… maybe we can talk to someone about it.
A therapist, maybe. It doesn’t have to be just you and Stacy anymore.”
He nodded against my shoulder, his grip on me tightening. “I’ve thought about it.
I just didn’t know how to start. Thank you for understanding, Amber. I didn’t know how much I needed this.”
I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my heart swelling with a love deeper than I’d ever known.
“We’ll figure it out, Steve. Together.”
And as I kissed him, I knew we would. We weren’t perfect, but we were real, and for the first time, that felt like enough.
But that’s the thing about love, isn’t it?
It’s not about finding some perfect person without any scars; it’s about finding someone whose scars you’re willing to share.
Source: amomama
