Page 133 of Broken Saint

“I can have healthy,” I complain.

“I know, but I wanted to treat my girl.”

My girl…

Will there ever be a time when butterflies don’t erupt in my belly when I hear that?

God. I hope not.

I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he pulls out exactly what he promised. Containers of my favorite Thai dishes line the surface before he grabs two plates and begins dishing it up.

His chicken and veggies look a little boring next to mine, but he never complains as we take our seats at the island and begin eating.

“This is so good,” I groan around a mouthful of Khao Pad.

Leaning over, Colt kisses me on the cheek before spearing a baby corn and pushing it past his lips.

“So, about you choosing the wrong brother…” he starts, shooting me a coy glance.

“Yeah, well…you know how it is…”

“Mmm, sure. West is a catch, but I think we both know that he’s got nothing on me.”

I love seeing Colt like this. Relaxed, easygoing.

There was a moment the other night as he finally laid all his cards on the table I was worried that he wasn’t going to return to this. But he has, and if anything, he’s even more comfortable with me.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

But while his weight has been lifted now the truth is out, mine is feeling heavier than ever.

I swallow a mouthful of rice before turning to look at him.

“You don’t need to worry about your brother, Colt. It’s always been you.”

His eyes go all soft, the slightest of smiles playing on his lips.

“Bombshell,” he breathes, leaning in to steal a kiss, which I accept happily, although when he tries to deepen it, I back away. “Talk to me,” he begs.

Lowering my fork, I suck in a deep breath.

“You know all that stuff you told me the other night?” The second the words roll off my tongue, he tenses up.

He might have told me everything he was too scared to before, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it.

That’s exactly why he’s shied away from going there again.

“I understand more than you could ever know,” I confess.

Pushing his plate away, he turns his attention fully on me.

Before I can get sucked into his dark eyes, I hop to my feet in search of my cell.

“I thought you wanted to talk, not run away.”

“I do. I just—” Finding it under the coffee table, I open up my albums and find one that I don’t go into very often.

Scrolling all the way to the first photo, I pause and look at it for a beat.