Page 140 of Broken Blades

She looked up when I entered. Smiled. That soft, unguarded expression that hit me like a freight train every single time.

"Hey."

Every dark thought in my head disappeared. Every poisonous word Barbara had planted. Every doubt I'd been nursing during the drive home. Every brutal truth about what I'd done and who I was and what I deserved. Gone.

I crossed the room in three strides.

She started to say something—probably a question about practice, about lunch, about the plans we'd made. But I didn't let her finish.

I grabbed her face between my hands and kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Like I could erase Barbara's voice and my own guilt and the ticking clock on whatever this was between us if I just kissed her thoroughly enough.

She made a small sound of surprise that melted into something softer. Sweeter. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away even though I was being rough. Too rough.

I gentled the kiss. Forced myself to slow down. To taste instead of take. To remind myself that she wasn't something to conquer or control.

She was something to keep.

When I finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. Her lips were swollen, her eyes wide and dazed. Her fingers still gripped my shirt like she needed the anchor.

"What was that for?"

I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes closed, trying to find words that wouldn't reveal too much. That wouldn't admit just how deep I'd already fallen. "Missed you."

She laughed softly, breath warm against my mouth. "You saw me four hours ago."

"Too long."

And God help me, I meant it.

She traced her fingers along my jaw, touch feather-light and devastating in its gentleness. Like she'd already decided I was worth this kind of tenderness. Like she'd looked past everything ugly and broken and violent in me and chosen to stay, anyway.

"Barbara came to see me at practice."

The words fell before I could stop them.

Chastity stiffened in my arms.

I felt the shift immediately—the way her body went from soft and pliant to rigid with tension. Her hands stilled against my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

"She thinks I'm going to hurt you."

The words tasted bitter. True. Because Barbara knew me. Knew exactly what I was capable of when given the opportunity and motivation.

Chastity pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn't sure I could give her. "Are you?"

The question hung between us, simple and devastating.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Every instinct screamed at me to lie, to reassure, to give her the answer that would keep her here in my arms where she belonged.

But I'd promised myself I wouldn't lie to her. Not about this.

"I… I don't know." The admission ripped out of me, raw and honest. "I always hurt what I love."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again like she was testing different responses, different ways to navigate the minefield I'd just laid at her feet.

Then her expression shifted into something I didn't expect. Something that looked almost like determination.

"Then… don't."