Page 97 of Broken Saint

But sitting here now, watching him as he studies me, I realize that I never got over that dream. And I certainly never got over him.

His questions, his suggestions about starting over, collide with my mom’s, and my heart continues to race.

Could I do it? Could I leave her behind and completely start over?

I shake my head, unable to answer that question right now. So instead, I go with something simple.

“I want to be happy,” I say before taking another massive mouthful of prosecco.

“El,” he sighs. But thankfully, our server comes over with two menus and puts an end to whatever he was going to say next.

“So, what’s good here?” I ask him once we’re alone again.

“Well…” he states, not even bothering to open his menu, his eyes still on me as I scan over the options. “Everything.”

“Right.”

“Do you trust me?” he suddenly asks.

My breath catches, and I’ve no choice but to lower my menu and look at him.

“Yes and no,” I confess quietly.

The words land exactly as I expect them to, and he sits up a little straighter as his eyes widen in surprise.

“Go on,” he encourages.

My mouth opens and closes, but I struggle to find the words.

Closing my eyes for a beat, I try to find her. The girl he used to know who used to wear her heart on her sleeve and say whatever popped into her head. The girl who rode his face last night despite her weight gain and went to breakfast this morning without any panties on.

“I trust you with my body, Colt. But my heart…”

“That’s fair. But I was talking about choosing your dinner.”

“Oh,” I breathe, my cheeks burning.

“It’s good to know how you feel, though.”

“Colt, I didn’t mean?—”

“Ella,” he says, reaching across the table to take my hand in his and stop me from nervously tracing the condensation on my glass. “You did. And you have every right to feel that way. I’ve never given you a reason to feel any differently.”

My eyes bounce between his as the heat of his fingers ensures my body begins to burn up for him.

Just one touch. That’s all it’s ever needed.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, cringing with every word that passes my lips. I don’t want to be that girl who has to know if there is a future past a handful of orgasms tonight. But while this might be a first date, we have a whole heap of history that can’t be forgotten. And trust me, I’ve tried.

Colt’s brow wrinkles, and for a second, he looks away from me. It’s as if he’s struggling as much for the answer to that question as I am.

“I told my therapist about you today,” he blurts before sucking in a sharp breath when he hears the words he just said aloud.

Now, it’s my turn to frown.

“Y-you…you have a therapist.”

“Team therapist,” he explains in a rush, and I swear, his cheeks redden. “All the teams have them now to help with?—”

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