Page 75 of Break My Rules
I smile back. “Wren was the opposite,” I say softly. “She wanted me to have big adventures. Travel the world, and fall in and out of love, and do amazing, impulsive things.”
“You still can,” he says, watching me. “You can do anything.”
“Except find the man who did this to her.” I point out. “The one thing I promised myself I would. I don’t know what to do next, Saint,” I add, plaintive. “How are we supposed to track him down? I’ve been searching, used every last piece of information, and I still have nothing!”
“You have me,” Saint says immediately, taking my hand. I grip hold of it tightly, like a safety rope keeping me from the undertow. “Look, I know you’ve been determined to find answers, and if you want to keep searching, then I’m with you, all the way,” Saint ventures, concern clear on his chiseled face. “But when do you draw the line? What if there’s nothing left here for you to find?”
His question lingers on the riverbanks between us, confirming all my secret fears. Ever since Max ruled himself out of the suspect list, I’ve wondered how I’m supposed to continue the hunt, facing dead-ends at every turn. Am I going to search the rest of my life for a monster who may well be long gone?
And if I do end the search, will I be haunted with guilt and regret?
“What would I even do?” I ask, lost at the idea. My quest for justice has been driving me for so long, I can hardly imagine any other way. “Go back to the States?”
Saint shakes his head. “You could stay and build a life here in England.”
Again, I try to picture it. “I don’t belong here at Oxford,” I tell him. “I can’t keep up with the work. I don’t even want to. I just stood outside my lecture this morning; I couldn’t even bring myself to go inside.”
“So don’t.” Saint shrugs. “Quit.”
I marvel at his casual tone. “Just like that?”
He smiles. “You were only here at Ashford College to retrace Wren’s steps. And I’m only here these days because I want to be close to you. So move in with me, in London. I love you, Tessa,” he adds, and my heart swells in surprise at the words. “I want a future with you. But this isn’t about me. You deserve a future, too. You already have a great job you love at the Ambrose Foundation, helping people there, making a real difference. You could start fresh,” he says, softly cupping my cheek. “Build a life for yourself this time, not just following in Wren’s footsteps…”
I inhale, hearing the possibility in his words.
“My visa…” I start to say, but Saint just smirks.
“That’s not a problem. My lawyers can handle it, or the Foundation will sponsor you. Either way, you’re staying. If you want to…”
I do.
I can picture it already, life here, with Saint. Waking up together at his house in Kensington, chatting over morning coffee, before I take the Tube across town to the Foundation offices. Working with Priya and the team on meaningful, worthwhile projects, then rendezvousing with Saint for a romantic dinner somewhere. We would spend our weekends exploring London: taking in a movie on Southbank, strolling in Hyde Park, exploring the Portobello market… And every night, exploring each other.
No more secrets, or hidden agendas; no more searching the world with suspicion, haunted by the past. A fresh start, like he said. Just the two of us.
I want it all.The longing rolls through me with a sudden, bone-deep ache.
“I need to think about it,” I blurt, feeling overwhelmed, and Saint gives me a smile.
“Of course. I’ll just have to do my best to convince you,” he adds, the smile turning playful. “Show off all the perks you’d be getting as part of the deal.”
“I like the sound of that,” I tease, snuggling against him. “Breakfast in bed?”
“Always."
“What about foot rubs?”
“I’ll need an excuse to keep my handsoffyou.”
We sita while longer by the riverbanks, watching the sunlight play on the water, and the ducks gliding by. Saint doesn’t mention his proposition again, just asks me about Wren, and some of my favorite memories with her. It helps, talking like this. I know he understands what I’m going through, trying to navigate the path between honoring someone I loved, and releasing the past to be able to move on.
When it finally gets too chilly to stay, we walk home, hand-in-hand on the cobbled streets. Oxford already looks a little more magical, and with every step, I can feel the weight that’s been anchored around my heart start to ease.
Starting to let me go.
“Are you hungry?” Saint asks, as we arrive at the house. “I could rustle up some lunch. We’ve got the leftovers from the roast chicken, and—”
I cut him off with a kiss.