Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Riggs

I hate that she's so obviously been crying.

I hate that we're sitting here in the cold when she's shivering.

I hate what happened last night and that I don't know how to fix the hurt in her eyes, can't take away the fragility in the way that she holds herself.

And I hate that I have to push this.

But…I need to.

We can't have another night like last night.

We can't move forward if she's going to shut me down and push me away and…use my trauma against me.

God, I hate how pathetic that sounds.

But—

I had to figure out a way to be okay with the parts they could give me.

I don't want to be like her parents, don't want to give her half of myself, don't want to hide—fuck, that's clear enough considering all I told her. And…if I ignore last night, she's treated me with care.

And if I don't…well, her face tells me enough. As much as I hate how things went down, it doesn't take a genius to see that she's ravaged by what she did last night.

" Chérie ," I say, cupping her jaw. "I trusted you , baby. Trusted you with my deepest darkest secrets and now I need you to let me in, to talk to me, to trust me ."

Silence for long enough that I'm almost certain she's going to bolt, but then she exhales and goes limp against me. "But I hurt you. I ruined things and?—"

"We're going to work through that."

"How?"

"Because I hurt you first and you forgave me."

Her eyes slam closed and a tear slides down her cheek. "I'm scared," she whispers. "Because I like you too much. Because I'm falling for you and when you leave?—"

My hands convulse, but she's still talking.

"When you leave me like he did, I don't know how I'll go on."

"Leave you like who?"

Silence for long enough to hear the whistle of the wind and the waves on the shore.

"Like my dad left me. I—" Her eyes close and then she exhales. "When my mom died, we were devastated because we didn't just lose her, but we lost our brother too, and we lost our dad, our family, every bit of stability that Knox and I had. The difference is he had hockey and he could escape there. I had Nova, but things weren't great for her either. We… I didn't want her to have to deal with my stuff too."

"So you held it close to your chest?"

"I was a teenager. I was hurting, but I was okay. I was surviving. I was finding a way to make our family whole again." She shudders. "And then my dad brought Anne home."

"Who's Anne?" I ask gently.

"My dad's new wife." A beat. "She can barely look at me, not now and certainly not then. And neither can my dad." Ella's eyes come to mine. "Everyone says I look like my mom. I think…" She swallows hard. "I think that's why he left. Because I remind him too much of her. He has a new family now—two kids. Sophia's in kindergarten and Luke's in preschool. And—" A tear slips down her cheek. "I saw them outside Mack's."

The sandwich shop.

I still.

More tears are flowing. "They're fucking cute—his kids—and they were so good and polite with giving Steve belly rubs, and…my dad doesn't remember my birthday, didn't know I lived up here, didn't even know that Knox plays for the Sierra. It's like he slammed the door on the past and forgot about us." She's sobbing now, her body vibrating against mine, tears pouring down her cheeks, soaking into the collar of her jacket. "If he can do that, if the person who's supposed to love me unequivocally, love me more than anyone else on the planet can just leave me and make a new life, how in the hell is anyone supposed to love me enough to stay? "

And now we've come to it.

" Chérie ," I say and then stop.

Because how the fuck can I possibly assure her that I'm different?

That I love her enough to stick when her dad didn't?

That I won't just leave her behind and?—

"You know why I like to play matchmaker?" she asks.

I shake my head as I use my sleeves to dry her tears. "No, chérie . I don't know."

"Because happy endings may not be for me," she whispers, "but I can make sure that the people I care about have them."

The wrench in my heart is intense enough that my lungs freeze, that I can't breathe, can't speak, can't move.

Then I manage to unstick.

I crush her against me, bury my face in her hair. "Christ, baby, I'm so sorry."

Pathetic and meaningless words that can't change anything.

"He's…" She drops her head more heavily against my shoulder. "There's nothing I can do to change it. I tried so hard. I really did," she adds in a rush, lifting her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes are earnest, as though desperate for me to believe her.

I've only known her a short time.

But I know what she's saying is true.

"So, I started drinking. Way before I was twenty-one. At first it was to see if he'd protest, if he'd snap out of it and become a parent again. But—" She dashes her hands over her cheeks. "He didn't seem to notice. And then I thought I could be like him, could use it to bond with him. If we sat on the porch next to each other, drinks in hand, he'd have to see me then." Her breath fogs in the cold, shuddering out of her. "Well, he didn't," she whispers. "And pretty soon, I was using it to numb my feelings. If I drank I could be fun, could forget, could be the Ella that everyone likes."

My heart convulses again. " Chérie ."

"But it's never enough," she admits. "It's a crutch. It's—" She drops her head again. "No, it's worse. It's a problem because it's hurting the people I?—"

I brush back her hair from her face, tangle my fingers in the strands.

"It's hurting the people I care about. And it's hurting you. "

"I'm okay," I say. "And, chérie , this isn't normal. You had a shock and things went wrong?—"

Her head pops up. "I hurt you."

I smile at her. "I'm a big, tough hockey player. I can take a blow and keep going, especially if it means that we're here now, doing this."

"Holding a crying woman in the cold?" She's going for light but fails miserably.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm holding the woman I've loved from the first time I saw her smile as she trusts me with another precious piece of herself."

Her inhalation is so sharp it sounds fake.

And then she's crying again, burying her face in my throat.

But that's okay.

This is another type of trust, another gift from her to me.

My body is warm and my arms are strong.

I have tissues in my pocket and nowhere more important to be.

And…

I love her.

That's enough for now.