Page 99 of All Her Broken Pieces

“But you are. And I’m in love with you. You don’t get to choose who you love, and believe me, I get that this situation sucks. But even if I knew about your past with my dad, I’d still choose you. That first night with you, I knew. I knew there was something special between us, that there was something special about you. I’m not saying it was love at first sight, but I did fall in love with you quickly.”

“But is it love? It can’t be if it hurts like this.” My arms squeeze tighter under my chest as I draw my body in on itself, trying to protect my heart from his declarations.

“I know it’s real because of that pain,” he says as he soothes a hand down my arm while crooking the other under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. Looking at him is too difficult. I’m not ready to face the truth in his words or the emotions he wears so openly.

My back hits the wall as I take another step out of his reach, throwing my hands out to ward him off. “It’s not real. We were forced to be around each other when you stayed here for six weeks. Anyone would develop feelings in that situation. I feel affection for you because you took care of me when no one else could. I didn’t fall in love with Henry’s son. I didn’t. That would be… messed up.”

“It’s so much fucking more than that for me. You need to know that.” He steps into me, his hand on my hip, grounding me and forcing me to connect with him.

“I don’t know that,” I say as I push his hand off me and walk to the living room. “You’re twenty-three. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what love is. You’re too young.” The words feel hollow and wrong as they leave my mouth, but it’s the only thing I can say to push him away and put that wall back up around my heart.

“Ahhh.” He throws his head back and growls. “Enough with that shit. We both know that I have the emotional maturity of someone well beyond twenty-three. I had to learn to process my emotions in a healthier way because I had little sisters looking up to me who needed a parental figure since my dad was never around to do it his own goddamn self. But I’m a man with real emotions, and I’ve had enough of you throwing my age in my face as justification for what you think is your poor decision-making.”

“Fuck you.” I’m grasping at straws. I don’t know how to make him see that we can’t do this. I cannot allow Henry, Hank, whatever the fuck his name is back into my life.

“We both know I’m good for you. We are good for each other. If we were the same age, you’d have no argument, so cut that shit out right now and fight with me like an adult who owns their shit. You chose to be with me. We’ve had months together, and I fall harder and deeper every day.”

“Fuck—”

“You, yeah, you said that. You hide behind all these walls, but I know the real you, so stop yielding to the pressures of society. I don’t give a fuck what my dad thinks about us. I don’t give a fuck what other people think about us being together. I only care about how you feel, about us, about me. You’re my best friend, my home, the love of my fucking life, and I’m not throwing that away because you slept with my dad in high school. He’s not part of this relationship. I’ll fight for you every day to prove that this is real. That what I feel for youisreal.”

With every word, he steps closer to me, closing the distance I put between us until he’s inches from me, his hand cupping my cheek as he rests his forehead against mine.

“I can’t do this with you,” I rasp.

“What are you saying?”

Something cracks in my chest as I push him away, taking another step back until I collide with one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I need time to process this. I need time to decide if this is what I want. I don’t know if I can handle being with you if he’s part of it.”

“He’s not part of this,” he insists as he closes the distance between us and cages me against the window. “Please don’t run. Don’t shut me out.” His pleas ghost against my skin as his face dips down, and his stubble grazes my cheek and neck. He kisses the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “I love you.”

His mouth hovers over my skin for several heartbeats, waiting for me to return the words, but I can’t. I can’t say the words he needs, but I also can’t watch his heart shatter from my silence. My lips press together as I close my eyes and turn away from him. “I think you should go back to your place for a while.”

He tenses around me. “How long is a while?” His voice cracks with emotion.

“I don’t know,” I admit, still unable to look at him.

He places a gentle kiss on my exposed neck as he pushes back from the window and makes his way down the hall to my bedroom.

There’s no light in his eyes when he emerges a few minutes later, bag in hand. “This isn’t over,” he states, but even he doesn’t believe it. “I packed what I could, but I will be back when you’re ready to talk again.”

As he slips through the front door and the snick of it closing echoes through the space, I collapse onto the floor and release every emotion I’ve been holding in. My neat little box is broken, and not even I can fix it.

CHAPTER32

Bridget

Exactly one week later,I hug the throw pillow against my chest as Becka settles in next to me on the couch, spoon in hand.

“Here, try this.” She shoves her spoon in my mouth quicker than I can consent to the frozen dairy being forced upon me.

“What the fuck?” I complain through a mouthful of ice cream.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”

“It’s actually really good, but I would’ve liked a choice in the consumption. I can’t place the flavor. What is it?” I question as I reach for the container to look at the label.

“It’s my own concoction. I mix some peach Moscato into my vanilla for a boozy milkshake.”

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