Page 117 of Broken

But then, I suppose we have to be.

Our entanglement has a name—conspiracy. I don’t intend on living the rest of my life in a jail cell. Nor do I intend for Savio to return to one either.

So I’ll be vigilant until we leave the country and can be open about our feelings once more.

“I’m fine now that you’re here. I wasn’t sure…”

“I was pissed at the hospital. Did you have to stab me?” he complains, making me laugh as he rubs his stomach.

“You looked innocent, didn’t you? It became self-defense and not a vendetta.”

He huffs. “Perhaps.”

“Thought you liked pain,” I half-tease, watching his lips twitch and knowing I’m forgiven. My hands clutch at him as I ask, “How long have you been here?”

“I waited outside until someone opened your door.” Then his lips press against my cheek. “You didn’t notice.”

I pull back to frown. “Notice what?” My gaze drifts over his face and down to his throat. What I don’t see has me sighing with relief. “You quit?” I surmised as much when I went to Santa Cecilia, but it’s a relief to know for certain.

“Yes.”

Each brush of his gaze on my face comes with a sensation of warmth. I feel his eyes dance over my scars, my cheeks, my chin. My throat.

“I missed you.”

With no hesitation, I whisper, “I missed you too.” When his smile grows stronger with my admission, I ask, “How’s your stomach?”

“Fine. Someone’s aim was perfect or I’d still be in the hospital.”

His arched brow has me wrinkling my nose. “I researched it once.”

“Never practiced it though.”

“Beginner’s luck?” I quip.

“No more stabbings, hmm?”

“Agreed.” My lips twitch at his very masculine pout, and I press my fingers to them. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies as instantly as I told him I missed him.

“Really?” I warble.

“You already knew that,” he chides, rubbing a finger over my damp cheek.

I’m crying?

“You didn’t come—I was scared.”

He shrugs. “I had to protect us. You aren’t the only protector here. Plus, I had things to do.”

I straighten his clerical-collar-free neckline. “Like quitting?”

“That, as well as some issues I had with the Church. Not that they were unhappy to finally get rid of me. But, a final sermon, a farewell to the parishioners, it was the least I could do.” A smile tugs on his lips. “You’ll never guess what I found waiting for me on my doorstep when I arrived home.”

“What?”

“‘You’ve been a part of my life for so long while being totally unaware of who I am. (Either that or you’re just rude.) I’m beyond ready for you to know me as well as I know you.’”

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