Count On Me(98)

By: Melyssa Winchester



“Kayden…”

“Isabelle, I love you.”

I’ve gone over in my head a million times how I was going to say it the first time it came out. It’s not exactly the way I imagined it, but I refuse to take it back. It’s the truth and that’s what all of this is about. Telling her the truth and giving her the night she missed because of the horrible things I did.

“You wanna know why I did all of this?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I did all of this because there’s only one thing I’m sure of anymore and that is, I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you since I was three years old.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“You put all of this together for me?”

“Yes.”

“Kayden…” she whispers and I see the tears start to fall from her eyes. I start to think I’ve made everything worse until she speaks again, stopping my heart. “What took you so long?”

This girl, I swear—will be the death of me.

“I needed someone to show me the way.”

It’s when I pull her into me, feeling her body connect itself to mine that it hits me. What I said before is true. It’s always been Isabelle. There has never been another girl that the minute our bodies meet, can make me feel this complete and as long as I live, there never will be. She’s it.

I hear it then, clear as day, even though the way we’re holding each other, her face buried in my chest, it comes out muffled.

“I love you, Kayden.”

Here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter if her face is buried in my chest or she’s on the other side of the world from me. As long as she’s the one saying the words, I’m always going to hear them clearly because she’s not just speaking to my head.

She’s speaking to my heart.

“Isabelle?” I ask, not wanting to ruin the moment, but remembering there’s still one more thing I haven’t done.

“Hmm?” she murmurs as she breaks away from my chest and looks up, meeting my eyes dead on.

Pointing toward the stereo on the stage, I take her hand and guide her toward it. Pushing play, I wait until the music starts and then I look at her. Her eyes go wide, but the smile remains as the realization takes hold.

“It was you?”

“It was me.” I answer with a grin.

“Why?”

“You owed me a dance.”





The End…

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