“Temporarily.”
“Tell me why you want the septal myectomy.”
“Jagger, we’ve already established that my reasons aren’t logical.”
“So what.” He shrugged. “Tell me.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, unable to stop touching him now that he was here. “Why are you such a good pilot?”
His brows lowered in confusion for a moment. “The photographic memory helps for academics.”
“But the actual flying?”
“Instinct,” he answered. “I have really good hand-eye coordination and great instincts.”
I ran my fingers down the back of his head and laced them behind his neck. “I have this feeling…that I need the septal myectomy. Call it an instinct, call it stupid, but it’s there. Getting the pacemaker feels wrong with every cell in my body. I know that’s a lame reason, but it’s mine.”
His breath shook as he exhaled, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. “Then do it.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I skimmed my hands across his shoulders. “You hate that idea.”
“Yeah, well, I trust you and your instincts.” His thumbs stroked along my waist as he held me. “Maybe we should—” He hissed when I ran my hand over his heart.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I got a new tattoo, and it’s still raw.”
To Jagger, tattoos marked monumental events, and I had to know right now. His zipper on his ACUs was easy, and he laughed as I pulled his T-shirt free. “If I’d known you were going to strip me on sight, I would have gotten here sooner.”
“Hush,” I reprimanded, doing my best to ignore the lickable lines on his stomach. By ignore, I meant ran my fingers over them briefly as I pulled his shirt up and out of the way. He lifted his arms and looked down at me as I studied it.
Then I lost my breath. “Jagger, it’s beautiful.” It was a bird, its wings raised in flight. The colors were bright, unlike anything I’d seen on him, the wings and feathers immaculately detailed in little… Oh, mercy. Little paisleys. The outline of the bird wasn’t just a line—it was made up of words.
“‘For once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will long to return,’” he recited as I gently traced the quote.
“For finishing primary?”
“For loving you. Because the first time I lifted you into my arms, I knew you belonged there. The first time I kissed you, tasted what it could be like with you, I was addicted. I realized that I loved you, that I was capable of really loving, and the first time I made love to you, I knew I was finally home. You’re it for me, and it didn’t matter if we were together or not. You’d always be it. You push me away, and I’ll still show up here looking for you because you’re all I want.”
Before I could kiss him, heck, tear his clothes off his body, a knock sounded at the door. “Knock, knock,” Dr. Larondy sang as he slowly opened the door. “Ready for me, Paisley?”
“Yes.” No. Jagger zipped his top before he was fully in the room.
Dr. Larondy smiled down at us as he examined my chart. Jagger untangled himself from my arms and stood, but he held my hand. “How are you feeling about today?”
“Oh, good, we’re in time.” Mama sailed through the door, not so subtly checking the position of our hands. “Hmm,” she noted with a slight smirk.
Dad came in right after her, winked at me, and stood next to Mama on the opposite side of my bed.
“Well, now that everyone is here,” Dr. Larondy joked. “Paisley? You ready for today?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. He looked at me with expectation, but still, nothing. Jagger squeezed my hand when I looked up at him for help. He shook his head with a soft smile. “This is all you, Little Bird.”
I sought my mother, her anxious eyes and trembling smile. “I’m sorry, Mama, but I need you to trust me.”
Daddy moved closer to me and rested his hand on my shoulder in support with a satisfied smile. “Let’s hear it, Paisley Lynn.”
I gripped Jagger’s hand and met Dr. Larondy’s eyes. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Dr. Larondy, but I’ve changed my mind. I’d like you to perform the septal myectomy.”
I ignored Mama’s gasp and relished the supportive hands of the men in my life. Dr. Larondy smiled. “Let me see what I can juggle on the schedule.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.
“There is no way!”
“Magnolia!” Daddy shouted, startling me. “The girl, as you say, has spoken her piece, and that is that. Be supportive, or be absent.”
“I just don’t want to lose you, too.” Her voice broke, and she became fascinated with the ceiling lights.
“Mama, Peyton died because she ignored this. I’m facing it head-on, but I get to choose how.”
Her lip trembled as her gaze darted between us. “Okay, Lee. Paisley. We’ll trust your judgment.”
An hour later, Mama and Daddy hugged me, then Morgan pretended not to cry as they wheeled me down to the OR doors, Jagger my only company for the walk. “This is as far as you go,” the nurse said.
He leaned over me, grinning at the ugly cap that had my hair bound, and laced his fingers with mine. “You think this is as bad as it gets, right? In our life? This moment?”