Page 245 of Broken Saint
“Yeah. I always felt safe here.” As she says the words, the front door opens and Angie appears with a wide smile on her face and a floral apron wrapped around her body.
“Looks like Mom’s been baking.”
“I think I’m going to like it here,” I say before killing the engine and undoing my seat belt.
“You sure you’re okay with staying here?” Ella asks nervously, sitting frozen in her seat.
“I want whatever you need right now. And I can think of worse things than living with a woman who bakes.”
“I thought you came here for me, not my mom,” she teases.
Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her a little closer.
Holding her eyes, I confess, “Baby, you have no idea.”
Closing the space between us, I brush my lips against hers, not giving a single shit that her mother is watching.
“Colt,” she whispers before I deepen the kiss.
Her hand presses against my chest, but just when I think she’s going to try and push me away, her fingers twist in the fabric and she holds me close.
Our tongues tangle, and I lose myself in the kind of kiss I’ve been craving for the past few days.
Minutes pass without care. The only important thing is us, our connection, our future.
When we finally part, we’re both breathing heavily and Ella’s eyes are dark and hungry.
Heat unfurls within me, ensuring that that semi I was rocking earlier is firmly full mast at the prospect of getting more than a kiss from my girl.
“We should go in,” she whispers, her voice raspy with need.
Swallowing thickly, I force out my agreement. “Not sure I can face your mom for a few minutes,” I say.
Her eyes drop to my pants, and I swear she squirms in her seat.
“Better give yourself a good talking to, Rogers. It’s go-time,” she says before pushing the car door open and hopping out as if everything is fine.
“Ella,” I growl, rushing to get out so I can help her.
“I’m fine,” she argues as I wrap my arm around her, attempting to assist her, but she ducks away and rushes toward Angie.
Mother and daughter embrace on the doorstep as if they haven’t seen each other in months, not hours.
My heart constricts as I watch them. The love they have for each other is clear for anyone to see, and I can’t help but wonder what that must be like. To have a parent who would give up everything they have to ensure your happiness.
Pain slices through my chest. Dad’s been good to us. He’s provided us with everything West and I could need. But his focus has never been love and care. It’s always been success, fame, and legacy. Numerous times in the past I’ve questioned what might have happened if we didn’t follow in his footsteps.
If we weren’t gifted football players, or even if we chose a different path…would he be in our lives? Would he care enough if we had “normal” jobs? If our faces weren’t on ESPN every week, our names talked about in almost every home across the country?
Deep down, I know the answer, and it doesn’t paint a pretty picture. It’s certainly not something I want to dwell on.
“Come in, come in,” Angie says once the two of them have parted.
The second I’m close enough, Ella reaches for my hand and tows me inside.
My heart in my throat, I walk deeper into their house.
One word floats around as Ella shows me her parents’ home.