Page 148 of Lucky Shot

“Don’t do that,” I counter and turn on him.

“Don’t do what? Be me? Love you? You’re the one who came all this way, and I sure as shit know it’s not for my game, so you tell me. Whitney, don’t do what?” Bitterness coats his words, and I stare at him with so much emotion my chest burns.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I throw my hands up. “I fought all my fears, every urge to not get on that plane and keep going, but I didn’t. I’m here. And just like you kept showing up for me to prove a point, I’m showing up for you. I’m here.” My voice is a shaky vibrato, and my heart is a deafening staccato.

“I deserve more than you just showing up.” He sits his ass on the back of the couch. “So do you, and you know it.”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to see me and be so overwhelmed that I made the trek here to let him know I care. It was supposed to be enough.

But it’s not enough. I know it, and he just said it. He does deserve better.

“What do you want from me? To pour my heart out to you? Tell you yes, I love you too?”

“Only if that’s how you feel.” His stoicism is maddening. I want him to fight me. To argue. To give me something to rally against.

But he’s staring at me with a face of patience and eyes filled with resignation.

“So I tell you I love you, I open myself up to you, all so you can pick up and go back to England in a few weeks?”

“Ah. And there it finally is. Said and put out in the open.”

“Do you have an answer?” My throat burns and eyes well. “Put yourself in my shoes.”

“I have. Believe me I have, more times than I care to count.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How about this? How about it’s hard to talk about my next steps when we can’t even agree on which step we’re currently standing on? You think I’m going to talk about what happens a month, two months, six months from now when you’re too fucking scared I’m going to leave as it is?” He runs a hand through his hair and paces about the room. “It’s not enough to love a woman who you’re afraid can’t love you in return. I’ve been patient. I’ve done what I could to make your life easier. I’ve put things in order to—”

“Now I’m a fucking charity case? Of course. I’m sorry that I came here.”

“No.” His voice thunders, and his hand slams down on the table. “You don’t get to use that excuse anymore. I’ve never treated you like one so stop using it when it’s convenient for you.” He laces his fingers at the back of his neck and pulls down as his groan of frustration fills the room.

I’m frustrated too. At myself. At this situation. At every single goddamn thing in my life that led me to this point, but that paralyzes me from believing this could be true.

“You’re stubborn and defiant, Whitney, and you love those fucking kids with all your heart unconditionally, so why is it that you can’t bring yourself to love me?”

The crack in his voice kills me. Absolutely guts me. A little boy asking why in a grown man’s body.

Gut check time, Whit. Isn’t this what you came here for?

I move toward him until I’m standing right in front of him. “Everything I’ve ever loved has left me,” I whisper. My words are raw and unfiltered but honest and true. “If I love you, you’re going to leave too.”

He drops his hands and looks at me with a clarity I don’t think I’ve felt before and a poignancy that makes it hard to breathe.

“There are no guarantees in anything, Whitney. None. But part of life is putting yourself out there and trying. It’s laying your heart on the line and trusting.” He reaches out and cups the side of my face. “If you don’t think that what I feel for you scares the shit out of me then you’re just as crazy as you make me feel.”

I reach out and rest my hand on his heart. Its beat is steady beneath my palm. I look up and meet his eyes.

“I . . . I love you, Alexander Hardy. So much so that it’s hard to breathe.”

He brings his lips to mine. It’s a tender brush of lips, a soft mingle of sighs, and an uncontested joining of souls. “I’ll take you any way I can have you.” Another kiss where his tongue dances against mine. “Let us just have tonight. Just us. Just this.” The warmth of his breath flutters over my lips. “We’ll start trying to figure out the rest in the morning.”

“Hardy—”

But any protest I might have is met with the determination of his touch and the surrender of my heart.

He kisses me like it’s a goodbye. He worships me like there is no tomorrow.