Page 84 of Break My Heart

I trace my thumb lightly against her hip, grounding myself in the fact she’s within reach at all.

“I don’t need perfection, Leo, but I do need consistency.”

“You deserve that.”

“I deserve someone who doesn’t punish me for caring about them.”

God. My eyes squeeze shut at her words because there’s no defense against them when she says them so calmly and with devastating precision. When I open them again, she’s watching me carefully. “You’re right.”

“I mean it. I think that has been hurting the most. That you could accept my love and then⁠—‍”

“Chris.” Her name comes out as a low rasp. My hand slides up her side slowly, over her collarbone, until it settles right over her heartbeat. “I was indoctrinated to believe people would hurt me. I made the mistake of treating you like you already had.”

Her breath catches softly.

“And the worst part? You were trying to love me while I was bracing for impact.”

Christin’s fingers brush against my chest absentmindedly. “You really do live in your head too much.”

A quiet laugh escapes me. “Occupational hazard.”

“No. Survival mechanism.”

The accuracy of it nearly undoes me. I lean forward before I can think better of it, pressing my forehead gently against hers. “I’m trying to change that.”

“I know.”

Simple words. No absolution, but hearing them from her still feels like something dangerously close to hope.

“I unconsciously shoved you away before you even had a chance to fight for us.”

“And now?” she asks.

“Now I don’t want easy. I want what’s real.”

She studies me for a long moment, like she’s running that through whatever calculation she uses to measure risk versus reward. “What are you asking for? Lay it on the line.”

“Time,” comes out of my mouth immediately.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it to make your own decision about what you want this—us—to be.”

“What does time get you?”

“A chance to show you I never meant to hurt you. That I love you. But since I’m the one who made this impossible in the first place, accepting that love is entirely up to you.”

Her expression shifts slightly at that. “And if I decide this—us—isn’t worth it?”

The question hurts my heart, but I still respond, “Then I’ll accept that.”

“Will you?”

“I never said I wasn’t going to try to change your mind.”

That earns a reaction from Christin. She exhales slowly, glancing toward the window before looking back at me. “So, where are we going?” she asks.

I decide to lighten things up. “Austria next. You know, the next race of the season.”