Page 82 of Some Saviors Can Break You

Did he want to spend the rest of his life regretting this one moment in time?

Florence was right, what was the difference between losing her to her job or losing her because he was too afraid of losing her. Either way, she was gone and no longer a part of his life. Elliot had said that while it would gut him to lose his family, he would rather have had them and lost them than to never have had them, and that was the same way he felt about his parents’ and brother’s deaths. He wouldn’t give up the good times they had shared, the values they’d instilled in him, or the love they’d showered on him for anything.

He was being a jerk.

A controlling jerk.

A stubborn one too.

Jumping out of his chair, he flew out of his office, he had to catch up to her before it was too late. He had to do whatever it took to get her to forgive him, he’d get down on his hands and knees and grovel if that would work. Whatever it took he’d do, somehow he’d make it up to her for putting her through this.

Bypassing the elevator, he took the stairs three at a time as he made his way down to the lobby.

When he burst through the door he scanned the room, but he couldn’t see her.

Running now, he pushed through the front doors and stood on the street looking wildly about.

Where was she?

Was it too late?

Was she already gone?

It wasn't like he didn't know where she lived, but somehow he felt it in his bones that if he didn't find her fast and explain, he would lose her forever.

He spotted a flash of purple.

Florence had been wearing a purple sweater in his office, he distinctly remembered that because purple had made her eyes appear more violet.

It was her.

Standing where she had been when the car came screeching toward her that night they had first met.

Quickly looking from side to side he darted across the street, ran straight to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her in for a kiss.

“You’re right, I'm an idiot,” he whispered against her lips.

“I never called you an idiot,” she countered.

“Not in so many words, but I got your message,” he grinned.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked warily, disentangling herself from his grasp and taking a pointed step back. He couldn’t blame her, but it still hurt, even if he didn't have anyone but himself to blame for the distance between them.

“Groveling.”

“Groveling?”

“I figure I owe you. You were right, I was being an idiot. You conquered your fears, and I let mine control me. I want to protect you, so nothing ever hurts you again, but I know I made a mistake in trying to control you and make you give up something you love. Seeing that man holding a gun on you, knowing that you would have taken a bullet for me. That youdidtake a bullet for me,” he amended, lightly touching the white bandage circling her neck. “I shouldn’t have let you go home alone, I knew you were in danger, I knew he was stalking you, and yet I let you go anyway because I had a meeting. A meeting. How would I have felt if he’d killed you or kidnapped you?”

Her eyes softened, and Eli knew in that moment that he hadn't lost her. “You know how I told you the cocky thing could be attractive, well it can also be extremely annoying. You didn'tletme do anything. I’m an adult, and a cop, I can take care of myself. I get that we worry about the people we love, but you can't be acting like a possessive, controlling jerk every time I'm not in your line of sight.”

“I saved your life, remember? I'm responsible for you.”

“Well, as sweet as it is that you take your responsibilities so seriously,” she said with an affectionate grin, “I can't have you hovering over me all the time. I’m as safe as I can be at work, Jake and I watch each other’s backs. Yes, my job can be risky, but despite the bad impression this last week and a half gives, I really haven't ever been held at gunpoint before, or nearly run over with a car.”

He knew he had to find a way to let it go. Florence was right, he couldn’t act like a possessive, controlling jerk. His mother would never have put up with that kind of behavior from his father, and his father would never have insinuated that his mother was somehow incapable of taking care of herself.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I'm sorry. I hate that I hurt you. That I made you cry.” His thumb brushed the dark bags underneath her red-rimmed eyes. It was clear that she hadn't slept much last night, he knew he hadn't, every time he’d drifted off he’d dreamed of Florence’s sweet body. “You know what you said, don’t you?”

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