Page 39 of Broken Saint
She whimpers, and my eyes immediately pop open.
“Oh, shit. No. I don’t want to make you cry,” I say, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I just…you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
A smile twitches at one side of my mouth. Did I…did I just do something right?
'“Shall we go? I didn’t really plan to spend the rest of our time together on Kane’s driveway.”
The most amazing smile spreads across her face. I’m pretty sure it makes my heart race and stops me from breathing at the same time. I’ve got no idea how it’s possible, but it happens.
“Yeah, I want to see what Colt the NFL player does to impress the ladies these days.”
Something I don’t like flickers through her eyes, but it’s gone before I can latch onto it.
“Trust me, Bombshell. No other woman will ever come close to ever experiencing this side of me.”
I pull the passenger door open before she has a chance to respond.
“Need a boost?”
She looks back over her shoulder at me after turning to climb inside. “This car wasn’t made for five-foot girls, was it?”
“I dunno what you mean,” I confess, stepping up behind her and taking two handfuls of her ass. “I think it’s perfect,” I whisper in her ear before boosting her up.
“Oh,” she breathes, her cheeks burning bright as she looks back at me.
As I jog around the hood to join her, I realize that she was right. She’s not the same girl I used to know. And I’m quickly discovering that I’m not the same guy, either.
And I think that’s a really fucking good thing.
“Ready?” I ask, putting the truck into reverse and looking over at her.
“For you?” she asks with a smile. “Never.”
In seconds, I’m out on the road, and with nothing more to do with my right hand, I make a risky move and wrap it around Ella’s thigh.
She startles as I squeeze slightly, and I expect her to push me away. But to my surprise—my joy—she doesn’t. Instead, she covers my hand with hers and watches out of the window as I fly through the streets of Seattle.
“Is it nice being home?” she asks, once again proving that she remembers the things I used to tell her.
“Yes and no,” I say honestly. “There’s comfort in the places you remember from being a kid. But it’s also missing the excitement of somewhere new.”
“You get to travel for that,” she says, her eyes still on the outside. “It’s an incredible city,” she muses.
“It is. It’s got a few hidden treasures, too.”
“If you say the Saints’ star running back, I’m going to demand you pull this ridiculous truck over right now.”
My laughter fills the air. It’s a sound I haven’t been all that familiar with over the past few months. Hell, if I’m really being honest with myself, the last few years.
I always dreamed of being a Saint, of following in my father's footsteps. And while I might love being back here, getting to do what I love day in, day out with two of my best friends at my sides, I can also admit that there’s something missing.
To start with, I convinced myself that I was just missing the college life, but that was bullshit. Then it was that the team was new, I was finding my feet as a rookie, and I missed the camaraderie of a well-connected team. Again, total bull.
I don’t think I really put my finger on what it was. Not until I stood on the sideline earlier and found those honey-colored eyes and that sinful body wrapped in my jersey.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” I finally say, remembering the reason I was laughing in the first place.