Page 243 of Broken Saint

“Anything for my girls,” Colt says, pressing another kiss on my cheek and resting his hand on my stomach.

“Girls?” Mom questions.

I shrug. “Colt is already convinced that we’re have a little girl.”

62

COLTON

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask for the millionth time.

I can’t help it. Ella might tell me that she’s feeling better, but I can see how weak she still is.

It’s been two days since she woke up and we discovered the truth about why she had been hospitalized in the first place. She’s been eating and gaining strength, but she still has a way to go.

“Yes, I’m fine. Can you please stop fussing?”

“Nope. Never. And I’ve got to warn you, it’s only going to get worse.”

“Brilliant,” she mutters under her breath, making me smile.

“You’re carrying precious cargo.”

Even as I say the words, I find them hard to believe.

Getting a girl pregnant has always been one of my biggest fears. I can push women away. I can put my barriers up and stop them from getting too close. But a baby…

I might be an asshole, but there is no way I could turn my back on a baby. A baby I helped create.

But hearing the nurse say those words to Ella…I didn’t feel any of that fear.

It felt…it felt right.

It feels right.

With my grip on her waist tightening, we continue toward the exit of the hospital.

“Of course.” Ella laughs.

“What?” I ask innocently. “It’s Texas. Everyone has trucks this big. It would be weird not to,” I counter, eyeing the sleek blue truck I rented.

“Sure.” She chuckles as I pull the passenger door open and help her inside before putting her bag in the cab and joining her.

“Ready to go home, Bombshell?” I ask, turning to look at her.

She’s got some color back in her face and the mischievous twinkle I love so much in her eyes again.

Every time I look at her, all I can think about is what a fucking moron I was for pushing her away.

“It’s not quite Seattle, is it?” Ella muses as I follow the GPS toward her mom’s address. We left the city behind a few minutes ago, and now there is nothing but fields. It’s pretty. Peaceful. Exactly what both of us probably need right now.

“It’s perfect,” I muse, reaching over to take her hand in mine.

Things are still a little tense between us. I wish they weren’t, but I fully understand that she can’t let it all go.

She shouldn’t. I hurt her. Badly. I deserve for her to remember that forever. I deserve to be punished for it forever.

“Thank you,” she whispers.