Stubborn Love

Why did situations keep putting them into this sort of position, like stars aligning. If they hadn’t fought the coyotes in this late, hormonal stage of her pregnancy, if she hadn’t gotten a cut over her belly, if Rhyme hadn’t applied the herbs himself. If he hadn’t been right here beside her, with his deep, soulful blue eyes, looking at her with love and pain and a fierce, crazy sort of determination as he told her what a handful the pups would be, as he promised to look out for them.

Yet, here they where, leading them to this moment, to her crying in his coat, and feeling everything she had been denying herself. She knew what she wanted, knew what it meant, but her reservations had never been about denying what she wanted. They had been about, what, exactly. Image? Upholding a standard? She found it so hard to believe in that moment, that these ideals were worth the pain.

He returned the words, saying what she had seen in him in flashs, in his pain and in his hesitations. He loved her. She clung to him tighter, still weeping, but more softly now. Something that changed inside of her, aligned, like those stars. “I’ll leave, if that's what you want. But it’s not what I want anymore Rhyme. It’s not what I want.” she sniffed, her nose still buried into his coat, her words hiccuped through her tears.