American Royalty III

Part 29: Marry Me...Again

Kit had been up and about for a few days now. Though her movements were slow and measured, each step she took was a small victory. She'd finally been allowed out of the medbay, much to everyone's relief, especially Connor's. For weeks, he'd hovered over her bed, watching, waiting—hoping she'd wake up, hoping she'd come back to him.

And now, watching her walk unaided, hearing her laugh, and seeing the spark return to her eyes—it felt like a dream he didn't dare wake from. Yet, even as the physical scars faded, Connor knew better than anyone that healing wasn't always linear.

Today, Connor had stepped out briefly to give her space, something Will had firmly suggested. "She's not going to get better with you glued to her side 24/7," Will had teased, though the truth had been evident. Connor needed rest, too.

As he made his way back to their quarters, Connor stopped short when he heard something through the slightly ajar door. Singing.

He stood frozen in place, listening, his breath catching in his throat. Kit's voice, soft and rich, carried a melody that wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He hadn't heard her sing in what felt like forever.

The memory of the first time she'd sung for him resurfaced—her voice had been like a siren's call, impossible to resist. Back then, he'd fallen a little more in love with her every time she hummed, every time her voice filled the room. Hearing it now felt like a piece of her soul had returned, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Pushing the door open quietly, Connor peeked inside. Kit sat on the windowsill, her guitar balanced on her lap. Her fingers strummed lazily across the strings, and her head tilted slightly as she hummed, lost in thought.

She glanced up at the sound of the door opening, her lips curving into a soft, welcoming smile. "Hey," she said, her voice as warm as the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Hey yourself," Connor replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You've been holding out on me."

Kit arched a brow. "Oh? And how's that?"

"That voice," Connor said, stepping closer. "You've been up for days, and this is the first time I'm hearing you sing again?"

Kit chuckled, her fingers stilling on the strings. "I didn't think anyone wanted to hear my out-of-practice voice."

"Out of practice?" Connor scoffed, sitting beside her on the sill. "You sound incredible."

She shook her head, though her smile widened. "Flatterer."

"Honest," Connor corrected, leaning closer. He nodded toward the guitar. "I didn't know you'd picked this back up again."

Kit shrugged, her fingers resuming their gentle strumming. "I needed something to do. Sitting around all day, doing nothing? Not my style. Will's banned me from training. He keeps confiscating Whirlpool, though it keeps showing back up in my pocket. This..." she gestured at the guitar, "...felt good. Familiar."

Connor's gaze softened. "You've been playing since you were a kid, right?"

"Yeah," Kit said, her smile turning wistful. "It was one of the few things that made sense back then. My music teacher was the only adult who treated me like a person. She didn't see me as a problem to fix or something broken. I spent hours learning from her."

Connor studied her face as her voice grew quieter, filled with bittersweet memories.

"And then I got kicked out of that school," she added with a soft laugh, though her tone betrayed the weight of her words.

Connor placed a hand over hers, stilling her fingers on the strings. "It still makes sense now," he said softly. "It's part of you. And I love every part of you."

Kit's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met his gaze. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

Connor shrugged. "I just tell the truth."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the guitar fading. Then, Connor reached into his pocket, his expression turning serious.

"There's something I've been meaning to give back to you," he said, his voice quiet.

Kit frowned slightly, watching as he pulled out a small velvet pouch. She blinked in surprise as he opened it, revealing a celestial bronze band and gorgeous diamond that glittered in the soft light.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Connor... that's..."

"Your ring," he finished for her. "The one you gave to Hecate before—" He paused, swallowing hard. "Before things got too bad."

Kit's fingers trembled as she reached for the ring but stopped short. "I—I didn't think I'd see it again," she whispered.

"I kept it safe," Connor said. "Hecate handed it back to me after everything... after you came home. I didn't want to give it back until you were ready."

Kit stared at the ring, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I gave it to her because I couldn't risk them finding it," she admitted, her voice shaking. "If the Death Eaters knew... if they realized what it meant..."

She trailed off, her gaze distant as the memories surfaced. "They would've used it against me. Against you. I couldn't let them have that kind of leverage."

Connor reached out, cupping her cheek and gently guiding her to meet his eyes. "You were protecting me," he said softly.

"Of course I was," Kit said fiercely. "I couldn't let them hurt you, Connor. I couldn't—"

"Hey," Connor interrupted, his thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay. I get it. And you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're here. You're safe. We're safe."

Kit nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. Connor took her left hand, slipping the ring back onto her finger with deliberate care.

"It belongs here," he said firmly. "With you."

Kit stared at the ring for a long moment, turning it slightly so the sapphire caught the light. "I missed it," she murmured.

Connor smiled. "I missed you."

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice steady despite the tears.

"Good," Connor said, his tone teasing. "Because you're stuck with me."

He moved the guitar aside and gently pulled her into his lap. She shifted, straddling him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she leaned closer.

"You're so sappy," she teased, though her voice was soft and fond.

"Only for you," Connor replied, his grin widening.

Kit brushed her fingers against his jaw, her expression softening. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," Connor said without hesitation.

And then he kissed her, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of love and relief and longing into the connection. It wasn't the careful pecks they'd shared since her recovery—this was a kiss that spoke of everything they'd endured and everything they still had ahead of them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathless. Kit smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his neck.

"We're going to be okay," she said softly.

Connor's arms tightened around her, anchoring her to him. "Yeah," he agreed. "We are."