Page 118 of Broken Saint

By the time I get back to my building and pull into the underground garage, my heart is in my throat. What I’m about to do is terrifying.

Every single reason why I shouldn’t confess has flickered through my head on the way here. But as much as I might want to latch onto one of them and run with it, I know I can’t.

West is right. Ella deserves more from me.

She deserves to know everything before she makes her decision about her future.

If she can’t hack it, then it’ll fucking break me. Watching her walk away would be up there with the worst thing that could happen to me. But at least I’d know. It’s got to be better than her walking away when the inevitable happens.

Blowing out a calming breath, the elevator doors open, and I hesitantly walk up to my front door.

From the second I left this morning to the moment I answered the call to West, all I could think about was coming home to her.

But that one phone call changed everything.

I’m still excited. Hell, I’m more than excited to see her. But now I’m nervous in a way I wouldn’t have been before.

Before giving myself another chance to second-guess myself, I unlock the door and throw it open.

Now or never, Rogers.

Man up and trust her, or run away like a pussy.

The apartment is silent as I step farther inside, and it makes my heart beat harder for a completely different reason.

I didn’t once question whether she’d follow my orders and wait for me. I just assumed she would.

But what if she didn’t actually want to be here? Didn’t want to wait to see me after practice?

Just because her life has gone to hell in a hand basket, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any kind of life. She has friends here. Friends she probably wants to spend time with instead of sitting around in my apartment, waiting for me to return.

Fuck.

Lifting my trembling hand, I rub at the back of my neck.

I’m such a fucking asshole.

I really thought that?—

A voice comes from the direction of the bedroom and I startle.

Hope blooms within me as I take a couple of steps closer.

“Ella?” I call, my voice sounding all kinds of desperate.

Nothing.

“El?”

“Y-Yeah. Wait there. Just give me a minute.”

The second her soft voice floats through the air, relief floods me.

She’s still here.

She waited.

“Uh…okay,” I call back, dumping my bag next to the couch as my impatience begins to get the better of me.