I look at him, the man with ice-blue eyes and scarred knuckles, and think back to the first time he caught my eye at the bookstore. The first time he kissed me, made love to me.
“And you still want that? The house, waking me up in the morning, showing you how to cook eggs?”
He nods firmly. “Yes.”
“Then you can’t walk into that bank tomorrow, Chris. You can’t have me if you’re dead or in prison.” I put my hand against his chest. His heart is pounding so hard I actually can’t believe it. “I don’t care about money, Chris, or some dream house on the water. I just needyou, alive, so you can wrap me up in your arms.”
His eyes are bright, filled with a desire that lifts my heart. Makes me believe he and I might be possible. But then he looks down. Away.
“My crew is counting on me,” he says. “This job will set them up for life. Them and their families—”
“What about us?” I snap. “What about our family?”
The word hangs over us like a sword ready to drop.
Family.
His whole body flinches, tenses, then stills. A flurry of emotions conquers his face. Not once since I’ve known him have I seen him look this distraught.
But then something hits him. He softens, like a man who has finally reached the end of a long journey. He looks at me, pulls out his burner phone, and dials a number.
I think I’m going to pass out. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, and my stomach has twisted itself into countless knots.
“Yo, it’s me,” he says into the phone. “I’m out.”
I hear a muffled voice on the other end, angry and sharp, a tone of disbelief.
“No, not just this job,” Chris continues, looking directly at me while he speaks. “The crew too. I’m done with all of it.”
Angier shouting from the phone. Then silence. Chris ends the call and tosses the phone aside. The room is silent. Blue light from outside bathes the room in cool tones.
“No strings. No attachments. Nothing that could potentially land you behind bars,” he rasps, turning away. Every muscle in his body is tense. When he turns back, there is brutal intent in his eyes. “I thought I could live that way forever, Avery. But then I met you.”
For a long time, I can’t speak. It’s like my mouth simply will not work. I’m stuck in a dream, just waiting to wake up, my head on the counter in the bookstore, a customer asking me if Colleen Hoover is appropriate for her fourteen-year-old daughter.
But here I am. Staring at Chris. His blue eyes anchored to me like he never wants to look away.
“I…I don’t care about the man you were,” I finally manage to whisper. “I care about who you arenow.Who you choose to be.”
Something gives way behind his eyes. Not just the controlled discipline but a real emotion. The kind he never thought hewould feel because he spent a lifetime building walls around it, never thinking someone would get through.
But I did.
Me. The tiny, five-foot-three girl from New Hampshire who works at a bookstore and wears old Converse and torn-up blue jeans.
I broke down the professional thief and made him mine. And I’m never leaving.
He reaches for me, and I welcome it.
There’s no aggression this time. He doesn’t grab me by the hair or bite my neck. He takes my face softly in his hands and kisses me so gently I barely even feel it.
His lips tremble against mine.
Chris, the enormous and dangerous and unbreakable man, is trembling. And the knowledge of what I do to him, what I mean to him, fills me with so much pleasure that I feel like my chest may snap.
“I’m sorry, Avery,” he says softly. “For the lies, for hiding who I am from you…”
“I know,” I say, sliding my hands through his hair. I bring his eyes to mine. “Now show me.”
