Page 95 of Broken Saint
She wrings her hands in her lap. “Do I?”
“You’re the only one who’s ever got more from me,” I confess quietly. “Never compare yourself to any of the others. There is no comparison.”
Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her finger from her mouth, stopping her from chewing on her freshly painted nail.
“Did you have a good day with the girls?” I ask. Not only did I send them out to buy this sexy little dress that made my cock hard with only one look, but they were also instructed to buy something to wear beneath it, and a pair of shoes I’m going to fuck her in later. And then they spent the rest of the day at the spa being pampered and getting their hair done.
I wanted her to look in a mirror and see even a little bit of the beauty I see.
“Yeah, it was amazing. You really didn’t need to?—”
“Bombshell,” I warn. “I wanted you to have a good day. I’d pay what I did ten times over to see you smile.”
“Colt,” she whispers.
“What? It’s true. I hate that sadness in your eyes. I want to wipe it away and make you forget it ever existed.”
“If only that were possible,” she says sadly. “So, do you like it here?”
“Seattle? I love it. It’s home. How do you feel about it?” I ask without thinking. But it’s never been more apparent than in this moment that I want her to be happy and relaxed in the place I call home. Because if she does, then she might just want to stay.
“I like it. I can see why you’re all so happy here.”
“Would you stay?” I blurt, instantly regretting the question.
“I-I…”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that,” I say quickly, regretting letting my mouth—my hopes—run away with me.
“Every single bit of my life is up in the air right now,” she says, reaching for her own glass of water.
“What did your boss say?” I ask, diverting the conversation.
Ella sighs. I feel the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders for her. “I missed a deadline. She was pissed. She doesn’t like me very much.”
“Fuck her. I bet you’re her best employee.”
“I highly doubt it. I don’t exactly give it my all,” she explains.
“So why do it?”
She shrugs and falls silent as Matteo returns and places our drinks on the table, a glass of prosecco for Ella and a soda for me.
Dull, I know. But I have to be up before dawn tomorrow for practice. It’s bad enough that I’m probably going to get very little sleep again; I don’t need any lingering effects of alcohol as well. Coach would have my ass.
“I needed money, and it allowed me to hide in the house where Chad liked me,” Ella says, reminding me of our sobering conversation.
“That’s bullshit,” I spit. “What about your dream?”
“What about it? Everything went to shit the moment I decided to get in the car that day.”
“It’s not the end,” I promise, turning to focus on her.
“Isn’t it?”
“I know you’re feeling a little lost right now, but have you considered that maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about what you’ve lost and focus on what you could gain? You’ve got the chance to start over. To completely overhaul your life and make it exactly what you want.”
“You make it sound so easy,” she says with a sad laugh.