Page 57 of Broken Warrior
“Why don’t I go in and buy our drinks then maybe we can go somewhere a little quieter?” She smiles up at me. “I’m going to be selfish today; I don’t want anything interrupting our time together.”
Do guys swoon? Is that a thing? Well, whether it is or not, I think I might be swooning a little over how blunt Tate is being. It warms my fucking heart to have her be so straightforward about her intent, and it impresses the fuck out of me because I didn’t think she’d be so direct.
I like it.
I nod and hand over my credit card. “That sounds like a plan to me.”
“Black coffee, no frills?”
Another nod.
“Do you want anything else? They just started carrying pastries from the bakery next door. Dori said she thinks they’re going to merge pretty soon.”
“Up to you.” I couldn’t eat before I left because I was so nervous, but I’m starving now. “I’ll let you make the call.”
“Ok,” she beams. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
A flash turns into another agonizing fifteen minute wait, but when Tate comes back outside, two coffees in a carrier in one hand and a white paper sack in the other, the knot in my chest loosens all over again.
“So where to?” she asks as I take the drink carrier.
I didn’t notice it before but Tate is taller than usual, the top of her head closer to my chin than my collarbone. And that can only mean she’s wearing heels.
Fuck.
Tate in heels is a fantasy I have seen in the flesh and it haunts my fucking mind. Her long legs are a dangerous temptation with a spike underneath them, a goddamn dream. And so fucking sexy.
And now I’m sporting a fucking semi.
I clear my throat and motion for her to start walking. “There’s a park close by. Does that work?”
She nods as she stuffs the paper bag into her purse. “Absolutely. It’s beautiful today.”
She’s beautiful everyday but I don’t say it. It’s too soon for shit like that. Professions of love don’t change the circumstances they were forged from, and that’s why I have to be careful. I may know for a fact my love for Tate wasn’t tainted by my addiction or emotional self harm, if anything it was suppressed and buried so I didn’t feel it, but I can’t say the same for her. It is possible that it might not be and everything she felt was some kind of Stockholm syndrome shit. I hope not, and I feel like that’s not the case, but you never know.
We stroll down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, the sun shining, tons of people mulling about. Tate moves closer to me to make room for a couple walking the opposite way and when she does, her knuckles brush mine and then, then I get the slightest bit of confirmation that maybe this isn’t so one-sided after all.
Without even breaking her stride, Tate hooks her index finger with mine, links them together tight and continues walking down the street as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, the two of us connected in such a small yet deeply profound way, just another precious moment of our time together because it is just so fucking right.
She is just so fucking right.
CHAPTERELEVEN
FIN
I am goingto be fucking sick.
Yep.
Full on exorcist shit and it’s driving me right over the fucking edge.
I’d like to think that most of this is excited nerves, and I guess it sort of is, but there’s also this weird level of insecurity brought on by the unknown. Not that it’s completely unknown, to be honest it’s pretty fucking known, but this still feels like a big deal, something that could determine my future as I know it.
Ultimately it could, but since I’m pretty positive I know what the outcome of tonight is going to be, it shouldn’t have me all tied in fucking knots, but it does.
I cut the engine as I pull into the garage next to Theo’s Jeep—Tate’s still driving that while she saves for her own car. She told me I could park in the garage because it’s supposed to rain, but so far the sky is clear. Better safe than sorry though.
With a shaky breath, I dismount, and just as I open the saddle bags to take out my gifts, the attached door swings open and I’m attacked by a tiny koala.
