T h e D e s e r t R o s e

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Annie didn't flinch.
Not when Izzy turned to face her, not when the truth cracked raw through her voice, not when the grief—old, buried deep, sacred in its silence—rose between them like a tide neither of them could stop.
She stayed.
Steady.
Present.
Her arms curled instinctively around Izzy's back, one hand pressing flat between her shoulder blades like she could hold her together by sheer will. The other, still at her side, gripped her hand—tight now, threading fingers fully through hers, locking them there.
And gods, she heard every word. Not just with her ears, but with her chest. Her ribs. Her whole fething soul.
Annie's throat burned. Her own tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Not yet. Not now. This was for Izzy.
She brushed her nose against Izzy's, kissed her cheek—salt-wet from tears—and then her lips hovered, barely a breath away from her skin, voice low, reverent, steady.
"You don't have to be okay for me to love you."
The words hung there. Bare. Brave. A vow in the morning light.
"You don't have to be fixed. Or perfect. Or even sure."
She pulled back just enough to look at her, and the way Annie looked at her wasn't soft.
It was fierce.
It was real.
Like she saw every piece—shattered and sacred—and didn't flinch from any of it.
"I meant every damn touch last night," she said, voice thicker now, raw at the edges. "Every kiss. Every moan. Every second I spent wrapped around you, inside you… it wasn't just want, Izzy. It wasn't just the fight with Roman or some fething rebound."
She swallowed, and now the tears did come. One. Two. Slow and silent.
"You took the ugliest part of me last night—the rage, the pain, the shame—and you didn't look away. You didn't try to tame it. You saw me. And gods, when I looked at you…"
She leaned in again, kissed her—not hard, not urgent. Devotional. Lips pressed to lips like prayer.
"I saw someone, something worth staying for."
Annie's voice broke now, not from fear, but from the sheer truth of what she was saying. Her forehead pressed against Izzy's again. She clung to her hand like she needed her to stay tethered to this moment.
"You say you're a mess," she whispered, brushing a thumb over Izzy's cheek. "Fine. So am I. But I choose you. Mess and all. Fear and all. Every fething piece."
She exhaled, slow and deep, like letting go of something long clenched.
"And no, last night wasn't a one-off. Not for me. Not even close. You're stuck with me, Izzy. I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips found Izzy's again, slower this time. Deeper. A kiss that said I see you. A kiss that said stay with me.
"I want to know you," Annie whispered into her mouth between breaths. "All of it. Every scar. Every memory. Every damn way you come undone. I want to make you feel what you made me feel—like I'm wanted, not just used. Like I'm safe, even when I'm breaking."
Her hands slid gently along Izzy's back, not pulling, not claiming—honoring.
"I'm yours," she said simply, voice frayed but certain. "And if you'll have me… I'll be yours too."
And then she was quiet again, but the silence now was electric—charged with love, with promise, with everything they hadn't dared believe they could have.