Page 178 of A Little Broken

Raising my chin, I head up the short set of stairs to the porch, lift my hand, and knock on Paxton’s door while trying to keep my panic under control.

It’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.

Seconds later, the sliver of glass in the door gives the perfect view of a just-showered Pax walking toward me. My heart skips a beat, and a burn hits my eyes at the sight. I knew I missed him. I’m not completely inept at deciphering my emotions, but seeing him again? It’s enough to make my knees buckle and confirm what I already knew.

I really do love him.

When Pax realizes I’m the one on his doorstep, his smile warms, and he opens the door. “Wondered who was here, since I didn’t open the gate. Hey,” he greets me.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hey.” His smile turns hesitant, and he squeezes the back of his neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” I return, surprising myself with just how true the words are. “Mind if I come in?”

He steps aside. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

And I do. I’m always welcome. Even when I’m his pretty little liar or the pain in his ass or his friend’s potential one-night-stand. His door has always been open, come hell or high-water. The reminder of everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve put him through, flashes through my mind and leaves me on pins and needles.

So much so, I can barely make it into the foyer before I blurt out, “I love you.” The three words tumble out of me, making me feel jittery and anxious, and a little excited, too. It’s like I’m at the top of a hill on a rollercoaster, peering over the edge and preparing for the adrenaline rush I know is just around the corner. Even when it’s scary. Even when I don’t technically know the outcome. Not yet. I’m along for the ride, and as long as he’s by my side, I think I’m okay with it. “I love you so much,” I repeat, taking in his toasty espresso gaze as he watches me. “And that’s a weird thing for me to say. But I do. I love you a lot, and I honestly didn’t think I’d ever love anyone ever again. So, first, I want to apologize if loving you makes me act a little crazy.”

His smile softens, and he tucks his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “You’re not crazy, Birthday Girl.”

“Well, that’s debatable,” I mutter, “but let me finish.” I take another deep breath. “I love you, and sometimes, Iamgoing to act crazy. I’m going to act crazy, and I’m going to push you away,and I’m going to freak out when you don’t let me know you’re running late, or that you ran into traffic, or that your flight was delayed. I’m going to act crazy when I can’t get ahold of you, or when you don’t text me goodnight. I’m going to act crazy and clingy, and I’d like to think there’s a chance those quirks will go away with enough time, but I honestly don’t know if they ever will, and if we’re going to do this?—”

“We’re already doing this,” he reminds me.

“Let me finish,” I repeat, giving the guy a pointed look until his mouth snaps closed and he crosses his arms to keep from reaching for me. It only makes me want to skip to the part where we kiss and make up even more, but I hold strong, knowing that if I don’t get everything off my chest, I’ll regret it. “Thank you.” I take another deep breath and step forward, meeting him in the center of the foyer. “As I was saying, ifwe’re going to do this, if we’re going to keep doing this,” I clarify, “then I need you to be okay with it. With the good and the bad and the ugly. And I need you to be safe. And I need you to take your vitamins. And exercise every day so your heart stays healthy and strong. And I’m going to need you to not get into fights and not piss people off at your concerts or at the grocery store or…anything. I need you to be safe, and to put up with my crazy, and to accept that letting you in is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I know you’re worth it. All I’m asking is for you to take a few seconds to decide whether or not my crazy is worth it, too, and?—”

Rushing toward me, he grabs my face, silencing me with a kiss I feel in my soul. It burrows and it weaves and it twists, tying me to him until I don’t know where I end and he begins. But I love it. His easy acceptance. His devotion and passion. I love him. I love him so much it hurts. But it’s a good hurt. A hurt that reminds me I’m alive. He’s alive. And we have the chance to make something great. Together.

Pulling away from me, he rasps, “Totally worth it, Birthday Girl.”

I roll my eyes. “I mean?—”

“I love you,” he interrupts. “I love you crazy. I love you sane. I love you bitchy and sweet and sober and drunk.”

Digging my teeth into the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming like a lunatic, I murmur, “You know, I feel like I’ve heard this speech before.”

“Maybe so, but that waslike.” He kisses me again. “This is love. Pay attention, or I’ll have no choice but to start over.” His lips brush against the edge of my mouth another time, making me laugh. “I love that you’re messy, despite cleaning for a living.”

I gasp. “I’m not messy!”

“I love that you deny that you’re messy, and?—”

I smack his chest. “Watch it, mister.”

“I love that I found you after all these years, and that you dyed my hair, and peed on me, and?—”

“Pax!” I screech.

But he doesn’t stop. He just cradles my face, turning me into a puddle.

“I love you, Birthday Girl, and there isn’t anything you could do that would make me stop.” His calloused thumbs run along my cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper, surprised by how effortless it feels. To love him. To admit I love him. Despite the heartache and the fear. I love him. And it’s enough. Because a single second with Pax is better than the last forty-eight hours without him. And even if I only get another second or minute or day, it’ll be worth it. He’s worth it.

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