Page 121 of Cowboy SEAL Homecoming

“Like hell I don’t.”

He stepped toward her, and there was so little between them now all she wanted to do was close it. Eviscerate that space between them. This was too much, being apart, fighting, trying to give up and failing.

She wanted him. She loved him.

“I’m broken,” he said, his voice raspy and barely audible over the steadily pounding rain.

“Aren’t we all?” she returned, her voice a little broken itself. She knew it was a thing for him to admit that. Big. Important. “You think I don’t have a few screwed-up pieces inside of me? It’s called being human, Alex. You’re the only one who’s holding yourself to an impossible standard of righteous perfection.”

“A lot of people have been saying that. About the perfect thing. I didn’t think I was trying to be perfect. I was just trying to be…”

“Perfect. So nothing could ever go wrong again.”

“You know, my mom was killed by a drunk driver.”

Becca nodded, because she did. Burt had told both her and her mom, though he’d never been much on sharing the details.

“I was in the car.”

It hit her hard, so hard the word what whooshed out of her on a gasp.

“I was in the car. But I was on the opposite side and in the back, so I was fine. Barely a scratch. I was eight, and I just… For a long time, I’d just go through the day, over and over again, trying to find a way to change it. To find what I could have done to fix it.”

“Alex.”

“Eventually, I…moved on, or whatever. I decided I couldn’t fix that, but I could fix other things. I could help people. I could save people. With the right skills. Because fixing it, finding the right skills, it means you don’t ever actually have to deal with the grief or the loss or the pain. You keep doing, and you don’t have to feel. That’s been so much of my life, and I don’t know how to let it go.”

He tried to wipe the rain off his face, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there were tears mixed in, because she was definitely crying herself. Crying for that little boy and for the man who thought he could fix anything.

“Maybe you don’t have to let it go so much as…accept you’re going to save people in a much different way now. Because you will still be helping people. This thing we’re building is going to help people.”

“I think, maybe, I might need to let it help me a little too.”

“I would agree, and I would also suggest maybe you could let me help you a little bit. Especially with the emotion part of things. I’m not afraid of them. I’ll hold your hand through them.”

He reached out, pushing wet strands of hair off her forehead. “I don’t know how, but maybe it’s a skill that you learn like any other. You think?”

She nodded.

“I can’t promise to make everything right. I can’t even promise that I…I’ll always know what to do. I don’t know how… I…” He took a deep breath and let it out, the rain pelting them at an even steadier pace. “This is a really shitty rain-soaked speech.”

“You’re touching me, so it’s going pretty good.” She’d remember this moment always. The moment he didn’t try to make promises or fix anything, the moment he admitted he didn’t know how. It was everything.

He kept brushing his fingers across her temples, down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to be a man who isn’t in control of everything, but I guess I have to learn. No, not I guess. I have to learn. Maybe you could help out with that?”

Everything inside of her soared, and she didn’t care that she was drenched or cold. Not with Alex asking for help, opening himself up. “I could help, and I want to.”

“Okay, good. Good.” He visibly swallowed, running a hand over her wet hair, cupping the back of her head, and bringing her mouth to his. But before he kissed her or let her kiss him, he pressed his wet forehead to hers.

“I love you, Becca.”

She tried to choke back a sob, but he probably heard it even over the din of the rain. She leaned into him, clutching his shirt. “I love you too,” she managed to squeak.

“I won’t always be perfect or even very good at this whole thing, but—”

“You just have to love me, Alex. That’s all. Love me. Talk to me. Let me in. It’s not so hard, I don’t think. Not if we both want it and are willing to work for it.”

“I’m more than willing. More than. Hard work isn’t what scares me, but I don’t want to disappoint you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

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