Broken Saint (Seattle Saints #1)

32. Ella

32

ELLA

“ G o and get dressed,” Colt says not a second after he lowers me to my feet.

“W-we’re going out?” I stutter, barely able to focus on anything but the lingering tingles of the intense release he just gave me.

It was Letty’s idea for me to be waiting for him to return in one of the lingerie sets he sent for me.

And it seemed like a good idea when I was with her and feeling good about myself.

But the second he messaged to say he was on his way and I was thrown into actually having to do it, I couldn’t think of anything worse.

Getting naked when all I usually try to do is hide.

I kept reminding myself that it was Colt.

He hasn’t done anything to make me question how he feels about me or my body since we reconnected. But that didn’t matter once I got up in my own head about it.

I almost bailed and pulled on one of his jerseys. I figured it would still be good and hopefully a nice surprise, although it wouldn’t have had the same impact as the lingerie.

But the second I heard him come in and then his voice echo through the quiet apartment, I knew I needed to man up.

Colt deserves to have a woman with at least a little self-confidence.

And fuck me sideways, am I glad I did it.

The way his eyes widened, and his chin dropped.

It was a serious ego boost.

Even still, it was hard, almost impossible to remain standing there under his intense stare and not want to cower.

But I’m so proud of myself for doing it. For digging out a little of the old me and managing to knock him off his feet.

Even if he’s now returning the favor.

“I thought we were having a night in,” I say, hating that my disappointment is obvious.

I’m sure whatever he has planned will be great. But I want him to myself.

It’s selfish, but I can’t help it.

It’s been years since we got to spend any time together, and now that I’ve got him back, I’m like a junkie craving their next hit. And I never want it to end.

“We’re not going out, out. You don’t need to dress up. In fact,” he says, looking a little unsure of himself. “We’re not even going to get out of the car.”

“Oh,” I say before my brows pinch with concern. Searching his eyes, I try to figure out what’s caused the change in him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I just…I need to talk to you about something.”

“That sounds ominous,” I tease.

When he swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, dread begins to seep into my veins.

“Shit. This is serious, isn’t it?”

Sliding my hand into his, I step closer, letting my breasts brush against his chest.

He doesn’t say anything as he stares down at me, making my heart race.

“I owe you an explanation about a few things, Bombshell. It’ll help you understand…well, everything.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Colt,” I say, although the longer I think about it, about all the pain he’s caused me over the years, maybe he does.

“I do, Ella,” he whispers before leaning forward and resting his brow against mine. “I owe you the truth. The reason I’ve held back from what I’ve always wanted with you.”

My breath catches and my eyes burn, but I blink back the tears. He doesn’t need that right now. Whatever he wants to tell me is a big deal for him. What he needs is for me to be strong.

“Okay,” I say. “Whatever you need.”

Holding my hand tighter, his fingers slip into my hair, dragging my head back so he can kiss me.

It’s not as unrestrained as our last one; his anxiety over what he wants to tell me is holding him back.

It’s not something I’m used to seeing or experiencing with Colt. He’s always so confident and sure of himself. It’s a bit of a head fuck.

“Come on,” he says, tugging me toward his bedroom. “But you’re not taking the lingerie off.”

“Okay,” I agree with a cringe. It’s damp and now covered in his cum. But if it makes him happy, I’ll do it.

Reaching his closet, I find the bag I packed last night while he watches.

Pulling out a pair of leggings, my skin continues to burn with his attention.

“What?” I ask lightly.

I glance up just in time to see him rub his hand over his mouth, his head gently shaking from side to side.

“Nothing,” he mutters.

Letting it go, I reach into my bag again for a dress, but before I manage to pull it free, fabric hits my arm.

Glancing down, I find a Saints-blue jersey in a heap at my feet. Reaching for it, I lift it up.

“You want me wearing your number again, Rogers?” I tease.

“Always.”

“Who knew you had such a possessive streak.”

Stalking over, he takes the jersey from me and tugs it over my head.

“Looks a hell of a lot better on you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Turning to look at him, I swallow my argument.

It would be too easy to give him an out from whatever he’s so scared to talk to me about.

“I just need to clean up and we can go.”

After he ducks his head to kiss me, I slip around him and into the bathroom.

N o words have been said since we left the apartment.

Nerves and unease come off Colt in waves. Seeing him so unlike his usual self has my stomach knotted.

We’ve been driving for about thirty minutes. We’ve left the city lights behind in favor of the countryside. Not that we can see it now the sun has set.

With each mile, his grip on my hand tightens.

I want to reassure him that everything is okay, but honestly, I’ve no idea if it is.

He’s given me no clue about where we’re going or what it is he wants to talk to me about.

My mind is running at a million miles a second. I study each signpost and building we pass, trying to get a hint. But I’m still as in the dark as when we left the apartment.

He takes a right down a deserted street, and instantly lights in the distance catch my eye.

There’s a huge building that sits up on a hill, the land enclosed by high walls and a massive set of gates.

Colt slows the car, but he never turns. Instead, he pulls the car to a stop opposite a sign that gives me a clue about what the building on the hill is.

Nightingale House

Treatment Center

“Colt?” I whisper, confused as to why he’d bring me here.

When his hand trembles against mine, I rip my eyes from the lit-up building above us to him.

His eyes are dark, and there are deep frown lines across his brow.

“When I told you that I didn’t do serious relationships, it wasn’t just because I was a douchebag college kid.

“I don’t do serious bec-cause?—”

My breath catches as his voice cracks and he lowers his head, breaking our connection.

“Our mom. She…she lives there,” he confesses, looking up again, but this time his eyes are locked on the building.

“Okay,” I say, turning to face him and taking his hands in both of mine, sensing that he needs the support.

“She has…issues. Many issues. And—” He blows out a breath as he tries to find his words.

“Colt, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me all this. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I do, El. I want to let you in. I want you to finally see the real me. But I’m terrified.”

“Because your mom is in there? Why would you think that?—”

“Not her, Ella. Me.”

“Y-you?” I stutter, confused.

“We were told there was a ten percent chance that we would inherit her illness.”

“Okay. That’s like, really low though, so?—”

“Ella, she hasn’t lived a normal life since West and I were kids. She’s spent years battling and getting absolutely fucking nowhere.Bipolar, ADHD, alcohol and drug addictions just to mention a few.West and I, we’ve seen it all. And?—”

“You have it too?” I surmise. “You’re scared that you’re going to end up in a place like that.”

“No. I’m not scared about what happens to me. I’m scared about how I’ll hurt those around me, those I love, when the inevitable crash happens.”

“Colt, history doesn’t always repeat itself.”

He slumps lower in his seat and tips his head back.

“I was fourteen when my gran on my paternal side died. For all intents and purposes, she was our mother.

“Mom and Dad hadn’t been together for a long time, and he was always away working so she pretty much brought us up. But Dad never let Mom go. He still cared in his own weird way. I think it was for us more than anything. And he knew how bad things were likely to get if he just cut her free.

“Suddenly, Gran was gone and we were basically parentless. Mom checked out in a whole new way, and I wasn’t that far behind her.

“I almost fucked everything up, El. School, my chance at playing football.”

“It’s okay to fall apart, Colt. Losing a grandparent, a parent, that’s completely understandable.”

“It was more than that. Looking back now, I know that it was a peek into the future. Of what my life is going to be like.”

“No,” I argue. “Look at you. You’re Colton fucking Rogers. You’re a Saint. You slay every single challenge you’re faced with and come out stronger on the other side.”

“But there is going to come a time when I won’t be able to,” he says quietly.

“Says who?”

He remains quiet.

“Have you been diagnosed?” I ask, needing to get to the facts.

“Yeah, Dad had us both tested. Mild bipolar, ADHD, and an addictive personality, but I guess that probably doesn’t come as a surprise. I haven’t taken medication since I was a kid. I’ve figured out my triggers and developed coping mechanisms.They’re all fine for now, but one day?—”

“Bullshit,” I spit. “You don’t know anything about one random day in the future, Colt. It’s impossible. There is no reason why you can’t keep a handle on it for the rest of your life, just like you are now.”

He holds my eyes, searching for my lie. He won’t find it.

“You can’t let it hold you back from having the life you want, Colt.”

“I don’t…”

“The fact we’re sitting here having this conversation proves you do. You’ve been holding back for years. Not on the football field or with your career. But with me…”

“I’m going to hurt you, Ella.”

“And I might hurt you,” I argue. “But if we stop ourselves from having…whatever this is because we’re scared, then?—”

My words are cut off when he suddenly leans over the console and steals my lips.

He kisses me as if I’m the air he needs to breathe. His lifeline.

His touch burns and his kiss lights me up, but it’s in an entirely different way from before.

It’s honest in a way we’ve never experienced.

Finally, fucking finally, I feel like I actually know him.

There was always something he was hiding, that wasn’t a secret. But hearing those words from his lips explains so, so much.

I think back to his moods in college. The highs that were freaking epic, and then the times he wouldn’t answer his phone, wouldn’t attend parties.

I didn’t really think much of them at the time. Just like he said earlier, I assumed he was being a douchebag college kid.

But it was more than that. It was him dealing with life alone.

A thought slams into me, and I rip my lips from his. “Did you ever tell any of the guys this?” I ask between heaving breaths.

Regret and pain flood his eyes as his lids lower.

He shakes his head.

“West was the only one who knew for a long time. I eventually told Luca, and the coaching staff, obviously.”

“And now?”

Another shake.

“My coaches know. The medical staff. The team therapist.”

“Colt,” I breathe, cupping his rough jaw in my hand, my chest aching knowing that he’s been dealing with all this alone for years. “You thought that by telling us, it would scare us away.”

When he refuses to look at me, I gently pull his jaw up and duck down, needing his eyes.

“It should,” he finally whispers.

“Never, Colt. We’re your friends. Your family.”

I shake my head, my eyes flooding with tears. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he has a deep frown between his brows.

He studies me, his eyes bouncing between mine before dropping to my lips.

“I never want to cause anyone the kind of pain she caused us. It would kill me if I put you through even an ounce of that.”

My lips tremble as I fight to keep myself in check.

My heart aches as three little words bubble up my throat.

This whole thing has been such a whirlwind.

I still haven’t dealt with the man I left behind in Texas, and here I am sitting in a car with the only one who’s ever had my heart.

He had it back in college, and he still has it now.

It goes a long way to explain the black hole in my chest I’ve been living with all these years.

“I understand that, Colt. I do. But what if it never happens and you stop yourself from experiencing something incredible?”

Leaning in, our brows touch over the center console, the windows beginning to fog up around us.

“You are incredible, Bombshell. The best thing I’ve ever had in my life. I’d do anything not to hurt you.”

“You have though, Colt,” I say, hating that I have to be honest right now. “Every time you pushed me away. It hurt. All I’ve ever wanted is you.”