Aurora's POV
"Are you okay?" I whispered, my voice thick with worry. I remembered the way he had shielded me with his body during the crash. He must have taken the worst of the impact.
I reached up slowly, my fingers brushing the dark wool of his sweater, right over his heart. It was beating fast—erratic and hard—matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Oliver's eyes shut for a brief second as if my touch was a relief he hadn't dared to hope for.
"I'm fine, Aurora," he said, his voice rough and strained.
His gaze moved over my face, checking my eyes, my breathing, the bandage wrapped around my head.
"I'm fine. Just stay still."
For a moment, we fell into silence.
We simply stared at each other while the chaos of the living room faded into the background. The moment in the jet replayed again and again in my mind. The tilted floor. The flashing red lights. The way he had pulled me against him.
And his voice.
I love you, Aurora. I love you so much.
