Love Heals

She wrapped her arms around him, shifting so that she was sitting on his lap, and he fell back onto the bed. And the way she felt between his hands, against his skin, it was the only home he would ever need.

Later, he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, relishing the weight of her against his chest. She was running her fingers along his scar like she often did, tenderly.

“It was stupid.”

She turned her head to look at him.

“What I said about it not feeling like home, it was stupid. I’ve come to realize one thing Rachel; You’re my home. You’re all I need.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. She tasted like salt, and lust, and lavender shampoo. Her answering smile was soft and content.

“I feel the same.”

She was not always great with words, but he could see that she meant it, so it was enough.

“Our place?” He said quietly, as they lay back.

“Mhmm. And I’m not moving you again. It’s way too much work.” Rachel mumbled through a yawn. “Seriously. We’re dying here.” Emilio’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You realize you just proposed, Rach.” He told her, knowing she didn’t mean it.

“I did not.” She huffed, and he knew she was rolling her eyes.

He could feel her beginning to drift off when he spoke again.

“Marry me.”

The words just come out, as unconsciously as breathing. Which, ironically, they both seem to stop doing immediately after.

“What?” She turned again, this time propping her arms up on his chest. He could take it back, but-

“You might not have meant it, but I do.” She looked so beautiful in the low light, hair an absolute disaster, eyes bright. “I know we only just started seeing each other again but frankly I shoulda done this years ago. And I-” He blows out a breath. “I want it. Forever. I want you, Rach.”

For a moment, he was sure he had ruined it. She was not good with being pushed, liked to take her time even if she didn’t know exactly how long that was. She got spooked.

“No more moving.” She repeated. His heart skipped.

“Not unless you want to.”“And we should wait till you’re all healed and back on the field. This could just be some sort of PTSD.”

He snorted.

“Soccer was my life; it was. But in this time that we’ve had, you helping me with my leg, us getting to know each other again, getting closer again, falling in love again…it’s been the best time of my life Rachel. The best; I am 100% sure that this is what I want; soccer or no soccer.”

She thought about it, her fingers retracing their earlier path across his scar.

“Okay.”

He stared at her.

“Okay?”

She pushed herself up enough to press her lips against his.

“Let’s get married.” She murmured, and he flipped her onto her back, eliciting that impish smile of hers that made his pulse spike.

“Let’s get married.” He agreed, grazing his teeth along her neck.