Luke closes his eyes.
Joy. He’s never felt so much joy.
Sal’s throat is on fire, her breath an aching rattle in her chest. As she fights to open her eyes, each one of them a lead weight, all she sees are dim lights. All she hears are pacing footsteps.
Her eyes flutter shut once more. Still, she struggles to wake, to climb up from the haze that’s taken her under. Because within seconds, there’s a warm, strong hand in hers. A voice like a song, melodic and honey-smooth, calling her back. Singing her name.
Sal stirs in the hospital bed. A soft moan parts her lips.
“I’m here, Sal.”
Finally, her eyes open, meeting Luke’s. Meeting the agony and worry dancing in those dark depths.
He eases himself onto the edge of the bed. Her husband looks wrecked, his handsome face haggard and haunted. With a trembling hand, he reaches out to stroke her cheek.
Sal licks her lips, glancing around the darkened room. “Where am I?”
It’s a mistake.
Speaking.
Eyes widening, her hand flies to her throat. She barely recognizes her voice. A raw, sandpaper rasp that has even Luke wincing.
“You’re in the hospital,” he says slowly. “Take it easy, okay? Try not to speak too much.”
And that’s when Sal remembers Roy in her home. His hands around her throat. Her and Luke driving a stake through the neck of the monstrous man who tormented her for so long.
“Oh, God,” she whispers.
A tremor ripples through her body at the memories. But she forces herself to look at Luke and ask, “Is he alive?”
Fury darkens Luke’s eyes. “No, darlin’. He ain’t.”
There’s not one trace of regret in his voice.
Sal closes her eyes in relief.
She thought she had taken her last breath. That she would die. And Luke came for her. He protected her like she had known he would, stood beside her as she saved herself, and helped her end her nightmare with Roy.
Luke sweeps his thumb across the tattoo on her palm and says, “It’s over, Sal. It’s over.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, loving him.
Their gazes lock.
Sal smiles at him, tears in her eyes.
Then Luke lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses her palm. Her tattoo.
His warm breath a pulse against her palm, a promise. His lips moving around the words my life, because that is what she is to him.
“I love you,” he breathes.
And when he presses her palm to his grizzled cheek, she feels the tears on his face.
Her and Luke—they may have taken the long road back to each other, but one thing is clear. They had made it. Better, stronger, than ever.
In fact, their road is just beginning.
Where it leads—Sal can’t wait to find out.