Broken Saint (Seattle Saints #1)

34. Ella

34

ELLA

I have plenty of experience with Colt when he’s happy.

Mostly, it’s those memories of our college years that kept me going after my accident and the misery that followed.

He was always the life of the party, the joker, the one instigating the drinking games and hazing the freshmen.

His aura when he was high on life was probably what attracted me to him in the first place.

I’d mostly lived my life in the shadows prior to turning up at MKU. I told myself to try and step out of my comfort zone and leave the “old Ella” firmly behind and embrace the new me.

It had been months since I’d seen a therapist about my eating disorder, and I was finally in a place where I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.

Life was good.

And meeting Colt made it even better.

But I never saw him low.

He would disappear, though. Sometimes for days, sometimes longer. Especially after a bad loss on the field. But I never thought there was anything more than him being pissed off at his performance.

West certainly never said anything that made me question Colt’s moods. As far as I was concerned, he was just a normal young guy dealing with the pressure of college, football, and having a famous father.

When we got back Wednesday night, there wasn’t a lot of time for talking—not that I thought Colt could handle it even if there was.

He’d said more than he wanted to outside that facility. And as much as I wanted to bring it up again, to assure him that nothing he told me in his truck scared me, I knew he didn’t want to hear it. Not yet at least.

I spent yesterday continuing to ignore the real world with Letty, Peyton, and Kyan. The new addition aside, it was just like old times, remembering and laughing at the stupid shit we did, mostly while we were drunk.

With the guys’ next game looming, they were spending more hours training and watching film.

I get it. Colt’s job is everything, and the season can be intense. I remember it well from college, but the stakes are higher now. Each game crucial, the wins more important and the losses harder to take.

But I miss him.

I’ve gone from zero to sixty when it comes to Colton Rogers, and now I’m yearning for him in a way I thought I’d forgotten about.

He messaged ten minutes ago to say he was on his way home and picking up dinner en route.

Despite the past few days, my stomach is still a riot of butterflies.

I may not have dealt with everything I left behind in Texas yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it all and what I want to do.

Mom and Colt’s words about my future have been ringing in my ears over the past two days louder than ever.

My head tells me that I should go home, deal with my shit and do what’s right for Mom. But my heart…that says something entirely different. It’s already firmly set up home here and doesn’t have any interest in leaving.

My phone buzzes beside me on the couch, and I smile when I glance at the screen and find a message from West.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: I’M GOING TO SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!

Ella: I can’t wait. It’s been too long.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Too fucking right. Is my brother still treating you well?

My heart flutters and my thighs clench at his question.

Ella: Oh yeah, perfect gentleman

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: I don’t think I want to know

Ella: Oh, you really don’t…

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: You looked pretty fucking happy in his car the other night.

My brows pull together, and my stomach knots.

Ella: What are you talking about?

West is in Chicago. There’s no way he’d have seen us in Colt’s?—

My phone buzzes, and I gasp when an image of me and Colt sitting in the front of his truck while we waited for tacos the other night appears before me.

“What the?—”

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: You knew you’d be caught eventually.

I blow out a long breath.

Yeah, I guess deep down I did. It’s not like I didn’t know that Colt was firmly in the limelight when it comes to Seattle celebrities. Especially when it has anything to do with his relationship status. But it has been too easy to forget about the outside world as we’ve lost ourselves in each other.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Looks like you were having a good date…

The next image that comes through is of us making out. I can’t say I’m surprised. Honestly, how the headline image wasn’t of that amazes me.

Ella: Brilliant. Do they know who I am?

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Nope, you’re just described as a blonde bombshell who’s stolen playboy Colton Rogers’ eye.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, slumping lower on the couch.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers:You’re freaking out, aren’t you?

My hand trembles as I hold my cell.

I don’t want to be freaking out, but this…this is big.

Being photographed with Colt is hot news, let alone being caught kissing him.

Yeah, he’s in the media a lot with women. But usually, he’s standing next to them, whispering in their ear or wrapping his arm innocently around their waist. It’s the stories that usually give away his extracurricular activities. That or the girls selling tales of their sordid nights.

A shudder rips through me as I think about what some of those included.

It used to hurt, reading them, having little choice but to assume they were true. But being here now, listening to him talk about his life—about the women—I’m starting to understand just how exaggerated many of them were.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Ella. I need you to reply. I didn’t send that to freak you out. I just thought you needed to know before any more speculation comes your way. Before Sunday.

Ella: I know. I appreciate the heads-up. I can’t wait to see you.

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: Same, girl. Colton might need to watch out, because there’s a chance I’ll steal you for myself.

I smirk, fondly remembering all the teasing between the Rogers brothers back in the day.

Ella: You had your opportunity, Rogers…

Weston Motherfuckerfucking Rogers: No one ever stood a chance once you met Colt, El. You know it too.

Ella: Maybe I chose the wrong brother…

“I don’t fucking think so.”

My heart jumps into my throat as the loud voice fills the air around me.

I jump to my feet, my cell flying across the room in the process.

“You’re home,” I announce, rushing around the couch and running right into his arms.

I forget about what he just read over my shoulder and his angry voice and slam my lips down on his.

Instantly, he relaxes.

His arms wrap around my back, pulling me tightly into his body.

A low growl rumbles in his throat as his mouth opens, accepting my tongue and my kiss.

“Missed you,” he mumbles.

The scent of food wafts around me, and my stomach growls. But I’m not as interested in that as I am this man.

“Whoa,” he says, catching my wrist just before my fingers slip under his waistband.

“Feeling horny, baby?”

Lifting my hand, he presses a kiss to my palm before placing it over his heart.

Mine thuds against my ribs as I consider everything I’d planned to tell him tonight.

Nerves slam into me out of nowhere, threatening to buckle my knees.

His brows pinch, sensing that something is wrong.

“Ella, what?—”

“What did you get for dinner?”

A smirk twitches at his lips as he releases me and spins around to grab the bag.

“I got you your favorite, and I’ve got something a little healthier.”

“I can have healthy,” I complain.

“I know, but I wanted to treat my girl.”

My girl…

Will there ever be a time when butterflies don’t erupt in my belly when I hear that?

God. I hope not.

I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he pulls out exactly what he promised. Containers of my favorite Thai dishes line the surface before he grabs two plates and begins dishing it up.

His chicken and veggies look a little boring next to mine, but he never complains as we take our seats at the island and begin eating.

“This is so good,” I groan around a mouthful of Khao Pad.

Leaning over, Colt kisses me on the cheek before spearing a baby corn and pushing it past his lips.

“So, about you choosing the wrong brother…” he starts, shooting me a coy glance.

“Yeah, well…you know how it is…”

“Mmm, sure. West is a catch, but I think we both know that he’s got nothing on me.”

I love seeing Colt like this. Relaxed, easygoing.

There was a moment the other night as he finally laid all his cards on the table I was worried that he wasn’t going to return to this. But he has, and if anything, he’s even more comfortable with me.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

But while his weight has been lifted now the truth is out, mine is feeling heavier than ever.

I swallow a mouthful of rice before turning to look at him.

“You don’t need to worry about your brother, Colt. It’s always been you.”

His eyes go all soft, the slightest of smiles playing on his lips.

“Bombshell,” he breathes, leaning in to steal a kiss, which I accept happily, although when he tries to deepen it, I back away. “Talk to me,” he begs.

Lowering my fork, I suck in a deep breath.

“You know all that stuff you told me the other night?” The second the words roll off my tongue, he tenses up.

He might have told me everything he was too scared to before, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it.

That’s exactly why he’s shied away from going there again.

“I understand more than you could ever know,” I confess.

Pushing his plate away, he turns his attention fully on me.

Before I can get sucked into his dark eyes, I hop to my feet in search of my cell.

“I thought you wanted to talk, not run away.”

“I do. I just—” Finding it under the coffee table, I open up my albums and find one that I don’t go into very often.

Scrolling all the way to the first photo, I pause and look at it for a beat.

There was a time I felt very different about this image.

But now, when I stare at the girl standing there in her underwear with her ribs and hip bones protruding more than they should, I just feel sorry for her.

“You’re not the only one who’s struggled,” I say, mustering up as much courage as I can before passing him my cell.

Deep lines appear across his brow as he stares at the almost unrecognizable girl.

“Ella…who’s?—”

“It’s me, Colt.”

“N-no. That’s not—” He moves the screen closer, getting a better look. “Shit,” he hisses as recognition hits him.

Moving closer, I hop up on the stool again and take the cell from him.

“I can’t remember when it first started, really. I think I was twelve. Maybe thirteen. I’d always been bigger than the other girls. I’d noticed it more and more after starting middle school. But then I became the focus of a group of girls and things really took a turn.

“They’d call me fat and ugly, all the standard stuff. But it just added to my own warped opinion of myself, and…” I scroll through the images on my cell, letting him briefly focus on each one, letting them explain for me.

“I hid it for a long time. But eventually, Mom noticed I wasn’t eating properly. She tried talking to me about it, but obviously, I wasn’t really up for that. I thought I’d placated her because she stopped questioning me. I wasn’t aware that she’d turned her attention to watching.

“I came home from school one day and found her in my bedroom with my stash of hidden food.

“I was terrified she’d shout at me,” I confess, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled me into her arms and promised me that together, we’d figure it all out, that she’d get me all the help I needed.

“She was incredible, so supportive. Honestly, I’m not sure I could have gotten through recovery without her.”

When I glance back up at Colt, all the blood has drained from his face as he stares at the image I’ve stopped on.

It’s awful.

My skin is gray, practically hanging from my bones. My eyes are dark, my cheekbones pronounced.

“She homeschooled me for a bit. Held my hand through everything. She’s the reason I beat it.”

“No,” he rasps. “She might have been there, but you fought this, Ella. You are the reason you beat it.”

I smile at him, loving the way he can turn something so awful into some kind of triumph.

“MKU was a fresh start for me. The ringleader of the little group of bitches who’d had a hand in my downward spiral had moved across the country, and I was in recovery and healthy. But everywhere I turned there were memories. The middle school, which almost broke me, the hospital where I had appointments, the park I used to walk through with my therapist.

“I needed the new start so badly. And when I got there, I allowed myself to be the girl I should have been if it weren’t for that stupid disease.”

He studies me, his eyes wide with awe and adoration.

“It could have broken me, Colt. And I could have allowed it to ruin my future. Hell, there had been days in my recent past where it could have swallowed me whole.

“Am I happy with how I look now?” I say, gesturing to my curvy body. “Honestly, no, not really.”

“Ella, you?—”

I hold my hand up, stopping him from saying the words I know are about to spill free.

“I hated myself when I was in Texas. Chad made me feel ugly. But worse than that, I thought I was ugly.”

His jaw ticks with irritation, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“I don’t need to tell you this, though. You know. You saw how I felt about my body Monday night.”

Fuck. How was that only a few days ago?

I feel like an entirely different person.

“You’ve changed that though, Colt. Yes, I’ll always be up in my own head about my body and how I look. I’m pretty sure that is unavoidable at this point. But the way you look at me. The way you touch me.” I shake my head, unable to find the right words to convey just how he makes me feel.

His touch is magic, and his words light me up inside in a way I haven’t felt in years.

“I love you,” he blurts.

I swear my heart stops right then and there as his eyes widen and his chest expands with a quick, deep breath.

“I don’t want to go back to Texas,” I confess in response.