Page 60 of Tactical Lies

“You okay?” Connor’s hand swept down the length of her long braid, then lifted to palm her cheek. His fingertips caressed her skin, and she sighed and nuzzled into his hand.

“I'm okay. I just … I missed hearing you laugh,” she admitted.

Sadness wiped away the last of his joy. “I’m sor?—”

Lifting a hand, she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. “No more apologies. I get it, Connor. And you’ve apologized repeatedly. I believe you and I believe in your sincerity. I accept your apology,” she said the words she knew he needed to hear and was rewarded when something in Connor eased, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

It wasn't quite a yes to his question about second chances, but it was a step in that direction.

“Thank you,” he said softly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to her forehead and held them there. “I don’t deserve you, Becca.”

“Why? Because you messed up? I hate to break it to you, Con, but even though you messed up, you were my rock those first four months. I would not have survived them without you. You gave me everything I needed even though you were hurting yourself in the process. You can't do that again, Connor. I mean it,” she added when he opened his mouth and was about to say what she knew would be a protest. “You weren't taking care of you, and that’s why you let everything build up and broke down like you did.”

Taking a deep breath, Becca considered her words.

Wanted to get them just right.

“If I let myself lean on you again, you have to know that if you leave it will break me. I've survived a lot, but I can't survive losing you twice. If I allow myself to trust you and believe in you like I used to, then it has to be with the understanding that you aren't going to prioritize me to the exclusion of everything else. I needed you then, Connor, but I still could have supported you the way you supported me. If you’d needed a day off, I would have been okay. If you needed to scream and yell, I would have been okay. If you needed to cry, I would have been okay. Partners have each other’s backs, it’s not one person shouldering everything.”

“You didn't need my pain on top of your own,” he said, his fingers on her brow sweeping in soft circles.

Jutting her hip out she stared at him defiantly. “I could have handled it.”

His brow furrowed like he was deep in thought, things occurring to him that hadn't before. “You're right,” he finally agreed. “I was so focused on trying to protect you from everything, including myself and my feelings about your assault, that I forgot how strong you are. I swear, I won't make that mistake again.”

She believed him.

Which was why she mentally took another step toward trusting him.

“Good. See that you don’t. Now, are you ready to play?” she asked, pushing aside the heavy emotions that had dimmed the wood’s peacefulness.

“Ready,” Connor answered, his easy smile sliding back into place. Still, before he released her, he leaned in and dropped another featherlight kiss, this time to her lips.

It wasn't what she wanted, she wanted fiery and passionate, but for now she’d take it.

One step at a time.

Plus, she was already planning what was going to happen tonight. Last night, after learning about Connor abstaining from sex for over a decade she’d chickened out, back peddled, overcome she’d needed a little distance.

Tonight, she was getting what she craved.

What she knew they both craved.

When Connor finally let her go, she stepped up to the side of the bridge where the direction the water was flowing would carry the sticks to the other side. Connor came up beside her, one hand settling on the small of her back like it always used to, and she smiled.

Things were slowly returning to the way they used to be, and it felt right.

“One,” she started, and they both held their sticks in the air, ready to drop them. “Two. Three.”

Both sticks hit the water at the same time, and since the bridge was small and it would take only seconds for them to reach the other side, they both hurried across it, giggling like they used to when they were seven, and would play this game on lazy summer afternoons.

About two seconds after they leaned over the side of the cute wooden bridge the sticks appeared.

Hers in the lead.

“Victory!” Becca cheered, jumping up and down and pumping her fists in the air. “I keep my perfect score.”

Connor groaned. “How do you manage to always do that?”

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