Page 117 of Break Point
“That was … thorough,” Dad says, giving Henry a long, measured look. I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. This is hisahamoment, where he probably realizes Henry is not justsome guy.
“And helpful,” he adds with a dry little chuckle.
Henry doesn’t react. Classic. Face blank, shoulders relaxed. Like he couldn’t care less about getting caught caring way too much.
Liar.
“I can take her,” Henry says, knocking the air out of my lungs. “If you can’t make it to Mexico, I’d gladly travel with her and keep her safe. Help her tick that box off her tournament bucket list.”
I can’t breathe.
“That was what I was going to suggest,” Dad says, his tone pensive, like he might be second-guessing the plan after all. “What do you say, Belén?”
“I’ll manage,” I say with a one-shoulder shrug, ready to drag this conversation back into safe territory. “As long as Henry promises not to cause a stir in the Mexican tabloids like he did here.”
Henry huffs a laugh, low and tired, and runs a hand through his hair before looking at me.
“I’ve got no intention of taking my eyes off theactualtennis player this time.”
God,I hate him.
And by hate, I mean I hate how easy he makes it sound. How safe he makes it feel.
“Good,” Dad says, still in manager mode. Maybe he’s thinking this wholeHenry-caring-too-muchthing was nothing but a weird little blip in his imagination.
Dad stands and rounds the coffee table to head out.
“I’ll let the people down in Mexico know, then,” he says. “Congrats on the win today.” He opens the door and holds it, shooting me one of his warm teddy bear smiles.
“Thanks.” I smile back. “I love you. And thank you for everything.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.” He gives me one of those looks that always turns my heart inside out. The kind that feels like pride wrapped in love, like he’s determined to be enough parent for the both of them.
“Go!” I say, feeling the tears pooling in my eyes. He better leave before I start crying. These past few days have been an emotional whirlwind. Leave it to my dad’s gentle heart to make me cry out of nowhere with his quiet way of stepping out of manager mode and back into just being my dad.
He laughs. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
The door clicks shut. The suite turns into a vacuum, and the only thing that exists is Henry and me and the sound of our breaths. We stare at each other as if hopeful that everything pending between us, every word, every confession, will be magically fixed.
We know better.
I don’t know what to say or how to start putting things back together. I’m so overwhelmed.
“Can I sit with you?”
I nod. Take a deep breath. Watch him stand and settle beside me.
He grabs my hand without my permission, and I allow it. Allow his familiar warmth to seep through my skin and fill me with the kind of peace that only Henry can provide.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Please look at me.”
His thumb caresses my hand, and I soak in the comfort , bracing myself for what I need to say. The one thing that might save us both.
“Bells, please.”
I lift my gaze and stare straight into his ridiculously perfect eyes.
“I’m looking at you,” I say, feeling the storm of feelings bubbling up in my chest, desperate for an outlet.
