Page 62 of Break My Heart

INPUT-RESPONSE MISMATCH – CAR NOT REACTING PROPORTIONALLY

“You mean how your name isn’t Christin Gage, but Christin Porter?” I ask lightly.

“Legally, my name is Christin Gage Porter. I go by my mother’s maiden name for work.”

“Why?”

She gives me a look that questions my sanity. I answer my own question. “Because people would figure out you’re Lewis Porter’s daughter.”

She nods. “It started in college. People recognized me and soon, that became who I was—Lewis Porter’s daughter. I used my mother’s maiden name professionally once I graduated.”

“Were you planning on telling me?” I can’t stop the question.

“I always planned to.” She searches my face. “At first, I didn’t because...well, you were honest with me about who you were.” She lets out a quiet breath. “I didn’t want you to like me because of my father. I wanted you to like me because I was simply me.”

My chest tightens.

“Turns out,” she adds with a rueful smile, “we were both trying to escape our surnames.”

Her words settle over me with quiet certainty, stirring something I’d convinced myself I’d forfeited. Hope. She’s looking at me now the same way she did in that bar all those months ago—steady, curious, willing to see the man beneath the title.

The man she chose before either of us knew how spectacularly I’d cock it up.

“You’ll want to pace yourself,” she murmurs.

My brow furrows, confused by her remark. “What?”

She gestures between us. “This. Explaining. Emotional revelations.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “They’re clearly exhausting for you, and I’d rather you were fresh for the track.”

For a heartbeat, I gape at her. Then I can’t help it.

I laugh.

She hasn’t dismissed what I’ve said. She hasn’t mocked me. She’s reminded me that I don’t have to dismantle a lifetime’s worth of baggage in a single evening.

“You don’t have to unpack everything tonight,” she says gently.

Relief slips through me before I can stop it. “Right.”

She gives a single nod.

“Just remember one thing.” Her expression turns serious. “I won’t tolerate being disrespected again.”

The smile disappears from my face. “You never should have been in the first place.”

“I know. And you’ll never have the chance to make me feel as though I don’t matter—or that I don’t belong somewhere.”

There’s no anger in her voice, only the truth of how I broke us reflected back at me.

My chest tightens. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

I drag a hand over my face, searching for words that don’t sound rehearsed or hollow. “May I have the chance to earn your trust again?”

Her eyes search mine. “You really want one?”

I don’t hesitate. “I really do.”

Not because I deserve it, but because she’s worth becoming a man who does.