Page 131 of Broken Saint
Despite the past few days, my stomach is still a riot of butterflies.
I may not have dealt with everything I left behind in Texas yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it all and what I want to do.
Mom and Colt’s words about my future have been ringing in my ears over the past two days louder than ever.
My head tells me that I should go home, deal with my shit and do what’s right for Mom. But my heart…that says something entirely different. It’s already firmly set up home here and doesn’t have any interest in leaving.
My phone buzzes beside me on the couch, and I smile when I glance at the screen and find a message from West.
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: I’M GOING TO SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!
Ella: I can’t wait. It’s been too long.
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Too fucking right. Is my brother still treating you well?
My heart flutters and my thighs clench at his question.
Ella: Oh yeah, perfect gentleman
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: I don’t think I want to know
Ella: Oh, you really don’t…
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: You looked pretty fucking happy in his car the other night.
My brows pull together, and my stomach knots.
Ella: What are you talking about?
West is in Chicago. There’s no way he’d have seen us in Colt’s?—
My phone buzzes, and I gasp when an image of me and Colt sitting in the front of his truck while we waited for tacos the other night appears before me.
“What the?—”
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: You knew you’d be caught eventually.
I blow out a long breath.
Yeah, I guess deep down I did. It’s not like I didn’t know that Colt was firmly in the limelight when it comes to Seattle celebrities. Especially when it has anything to do with his relationship status. But it has been too easy to forget about the outside world as we’ve lost ourselves in each other.
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Looks like you were having a good date…
The next image that comes through is of us making out. I can’t say I’m surprised. Honestly, how the headline image wasn’t of that amazes me.
Ella: Brilliant. Do they know who I am?
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Nope, you’re just described as a blonde bombshell who’s stolen playboy Colton Rogers’ eye.
“Fucking hell,” I groan, slumping lower on the couch.
Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers:You’re freaking out, aren’t you?
My hand trembles as I hold my cell.
I don’t want to be freaking out, but this…this is big.
Being photographed with Colt is hot news, let alone being caught kissing him.