“So what does that mean?  What are you trying to tell me?”

The voices drift up around me, but I can’t make sense of who’s talking.  The words paint pictures within my mind, and I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or remembering.

There’s a sigh.  “I’m telling you she had a moment.  She got a knife, and I wasn’t quick enough.  Just one cut, but that shit was scary as fuck.”

“Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which wrist?” 

“Left.”

The pillow I’m lying on is hard, and I shift slightly to get more comfortable.  Trey and Jacoby keep talking around me, but I’m too tired to open my eyes.  I just want to sleep.

“Fuck.”  That was Jacoby, his voice a low hiss. 

“I’m sorry, man.  Is she getting any help?”

There’s a silence, and I drift further away into a dreamless sleep.

The sensation of movement pulls me from my slumber.  I’m jostled slightly, but Jacoby’s strong arms and chest cradle me as he carries me through the house.

“What’s going on?” I ask, groggily.

“Shh.  I’m just carrying you to bed.”

“Okay,” I mumble, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

Jacoby pulls back the covers and gently places me in bed.  I keep my eyes closed, but I can hear him moving about the room.  A door opening, a rustle of fabric, light footsteps on the carpet.  Then he’s back, and he’s slowly working off my jeans and shirt.  I’d help, but I’m so sleepy.  I let him take care of me, even though I should be taking care of him.  He shimmies a pair of sweats up my legs and pulls one of his shirts over my head until it swallows my torso.  It’s soft and warm, and smells like him.

The bed shifts as he crawls in, and then he’s moving me into his arms again.  I scoot closer until my head rests on his bare pectoral and his arm is wrapped around my body; his fingers running along my shoulder.  Turning my face, I press a soft kiss to his chest.

“Sorry I woke you.  I thought this would be more comfortable than the couch,” he says quietly.

“I’m comfortable anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

We lapse into silence, the only sound is our slow, deep breaths.

“Did Trey leave?” I ask, finding it difficult to fall back asleep now that I’m content in his arms again.

“Yeah.  He had to get home.  He only came over to make sure you were okay.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Mmhm.  Do you want to talk, or do you want to go back to sleep?” Jacoby asks.  But the way he’s asking makes me feel like he has something to say.

“I’m awake now.  We can talk if you want.”

“I thought you should know, Trey told me what happened last night.  I didn’t want you to worry about having to tell me.  And I’m not upset with you, Sweetheart.  I completely understand.  I’m just so sorry I put you through that.  It was my actions that led to yours.”

Now, I’m wide awake.  I lift up onto my elbow so I can peer down into Jacoby’s handsome face.  My hair creates a dark curtain around us that only adds to the privacy of the moment.  I trace the crease of confusion in his brow with my index finger.

“Don’t you dare say that.  Don’t take on unnecessary guilt because of my actions.  I’m the one who couldn’t keep calm.  I freaked out, and what I did is on me.  Not you.”

“Tatum,” he groans.  One of his large hands cups my cheek.  “My beautiful girl.  If I hadn’t left the way I did, you wouldn’t have worried.  It is my fault.”

I silence him with a kiss on his lips.  “No.  I let what happened with Wyatt get to me.  I thought the worst, and it brought so many emotions crashing down that I couldn’t deal.  But it isn’t your fault.  Please, don’t fight me on this, Jacoby.  It’s not your fault.”

His deep brown eyes flick back and forth between my hazel ones, and I hold his stare.  I’m begging him with my eyes to believe me and to let it go.  We can’t change what happened, but that doesn’t mean we have to dwell on it.

Isn’t that what our relationship has been all about?  Both of us had issues in our past we’ve been fighting to deal with.  Jacoby ran away from his, while I tried to cut mine away.  Literally.  But something happened when we came together.  Somehow, the two of us, with our messed up pasts, have helped the other heal.  We found solace in one another that we were missing when we were alone.

“Speaking of Wyatt, did anything come about while I was gone?” Jacoby asks, pulling me from my thoughts.  I don’t want to talk about Wyatt, but I get it over with so we can move on and leave it behind us.

We lie in the bed we’ve been sharing night after night, and I fill him in on everything that happened while he was gone.  I retell what happened last night, even though Trey already filled him in.  I want him to hear it from me.  Then I describe what happened this afternoon.  His face contorts with anger even though he tries to hide it, and I can tell he’s upset with himself for leaving me the way he did.  I climb onto his strong body and clasp my limbs tightly around him.  His hands slide down my ribcage to my waist, finally coming to rest on my ass.

“Let your anger go.  He’ll get what’s coming to him.  I agreed to file a police report.”

“You did?” Jacoby asks, his eyes widening in shock.

“I did.  We’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.”

“Thank fuck,” he replies.  “That fucker will get what’s coming to him.”

“He will.  And we won’t ever have to worry about him again.  Mr. Stephenson believed my story.  That you and I developed a friendly relationship after what happened.  As long as we’re careful these next few weeks, we’ll be just fine.”

“As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be more than fine.”

Our foreheads touch, and our eyes are closed.  We’re shrouded by darkness in the room, but we light up each other from within.  I am the flame, and he is the torch.  He carries me through the darkness, and when he’s in the dark, I light his path.

“Hey, Jacoby?”  I call through the darkness, even though he’s right here, his hard body is beneath mine.  His hands tighten on the spot where my hips meet my thighs, and he replies, “Yeah?”

I exhale slowly, trying to calm my jittery nerves.  This shouldn’t make me so nervous, but it does.  I’ve never uttered these words to another soul in my life, and the thought of rejection turns my blood cold.  But this is Jacoby.  I don’t need to be afraid.  So instead, I smile and place a lingering, soft kiss on his lips.

“I love you.”

Jacoby’s breath comes out as a rush, and his arms slide around my back, crushing me to his chest.  His mouth fits into the space next to my ear, and he whispers there, “You love me?”

“I do,” I reply.

“Say it again,” he commands, and his breathing turns ragged.

“I love you, Jacoby.  I think I’ve loved you all along, but I was too determined not to see it.  You’re the first person I’ve ever loved.  It didn’t come to me easily.  I had to fight for it, but now that I have it, it’s mine.”  I shriek as I’m suddenly flipped onto my back as Jacoby rolls us over.  He presses his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.  He just holds them there, like two puzzle pieces fitted together.

“God, Sweetheart.  I love you, too.  So damn much.”

My heart sighs.  “Show me.  Make love to me, Jacoby.”

And he does.

We don’t get much sleep.  We spend the night worshipping each other’s bodies with our hands and our lips.  We tangle ourselves beneath the soft, gray sheets until the shadows fade back into their recesses, and the sun’s rays peek through the window.  Then we get up for school and begin our routine, which will continue for the next few weeks, until we are free to be together without the repercussions.

Finding our love wasn’t simple.  It pushed our morals and the rules of society.  It was forbidden and different, but it was ours.  We fought against our attraction, going as far as to push one another away when things got tough.  But we came to a point where it wasn’t possible to fight any longer.  The battle was already won in our favor; it was won before we even stepped onto the field.  Love like ours can’t be ignored.  It strengthens and grows with every obstacle thrown in its path.  It might have taken months to come to terms with our feelings.  But in the end, there’s no denying it.