Page 13 of Breaking the Rules
“Is that an apology?” she asked, picking up the plate and taking a tiny bite of torte. “Because if it is, it sucks.”
“I’m bad at groveling, Angel. And you wouldn’t respect a groveler. So how about this? Walking out on you was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life. And I’ve been sorry for it every day since. I’ve never gotten over you, even when I tried. I’m done trying to forget you. And I’m not going to stop doing whatever it takes to win you back.”
“Oh, really? What about Dante?”
Xavier looked around the room. “I don’t see him here.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “No, you don’t.”
He laid a hand over hers. “Waverly, if you need a friend, that’s what I’ll be. For now.”
She withdrew her hand and shook her head. “I don’t need a friend, and I don’t need you.”
“Angel, you need someone, and right now I’m your best shot.” He got up and skimmed a hand through her hair before she ducked away.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Saint.”
“Get some sleep, and we’ll fight in the morning, okay? Bring your A game, though. This whole listless thing isn’t working for you. You’re not any better at wallowing than I am at groveling.”
She tried to hide it, but he saw it all the same, that ghost of a smile on her pale lips.
--------
Waverly woke up the next morning after her first solid night’s sleep since the accident and felt ravenous. It must have been the chocolate torte that she’d polished off the second Xavier closed her bedroom door. It certainly wasn’t because of Xavier. No, the man had lost any right or ability to mold her moods long ago.
She pulled on a pair of shorts and a colorful tank that Mari and Kate had picked up for her the day before and headed downstairs. It was still early, and the house was silent. She craved these pockets of quiet in her life. She had more control over them now that she had her own home—homes, she corrected herself. But they hadn’t gotten any less precious with increased frequency.
Nothing had gotten any less precious in the last five years. She’d faced death and faced it so publicly that there was no way to turn away from it, no way to shield herself as she had so many other times. So she’d faced the rest of it, the fears, the failings, the wounds and scars. She lived it, walked it, talked it until every sliver of pain and doubt had been brought into the sun and wiped clean.
If only she’d been able to do the same when it came to Xavier. But that hurt? That went into the marrow of her bones. He’d walked her right into the face of her deepest fear, that she was too damaged to be loved. And then he left her there.
So she’d faced it, accepted it, and finally, finally moved on. So what if she was damaged? She used it in her work. It made her deeper, more empathetic. What had harmed her in her personal life turned out to be a gift in her professional life. She had a deeper understanding of both characters and people and used it.
She’d finally forgiven herself for falling in love with him. She’d been young, wounded, and ready to be swept off her feet. And as long as she never let it happen again, she’d stay forgiven.Fool me once, she thought wryly.
And with that magical summoning, Xavier padded out of the bedroom he’d confiscated off of the living room. He wore a pair of cotton pajama pants that rode low on his hips. The drawstring was untied. His hair was tousled and he still hadn’t bothered shaving.
The bag of coffee slipped from her hands and hit the tile floor with a soft thump.
He grinned a slow, sleepy-eyed smile and knelt down in front of her to retrieve the coffee. He took his time getting back up and surveyed every inch of her body as he did.
“Morning.” His voice was still thick with sleep.
Waverly felt her cheeks flush with a redness that spread to the roots of her hair.
She turned her back on him and willed herself to get it together. She would not be thrown by a shirtless Adonis. “Oh, you’re still here?” she asked coolly.
“In the flesh.”
She heard the laugh in his voice but decided it was safer to stare down the coffee maker than the half-naked man. She fumbled with the scoop and dumped half of the grounds on the counter before he gently, but firmly, pushed her aside.
“Go find eggs,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of the coffee before you ruin it.”
“I’m not making you breakfast.”
“No,I’mmakingusbreakfast,” he corrected.
“I don’t eat breakfast anymore.”
