Page 119 of The Killer Card

I frown, pulling back enough to look into his green eyes shadowed by something familiar and haunting. My heart cracks just a fraction. “What do you mean…?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t go back to doing this the way we did it these last four years. Seeing you every few months at best. I can’t…. No, I refuse to just be a casual fuck when you roll into town.” His words hurt but I force myself to stand my ground, our swaying ceasing. “I love you Naomi. And I know you love me and I refuse to let this end the way it did before—”

“You ended things before,” I remind him.

“I know,” he agrees too quickly. “I know, and I regretted it every fucking day for two goddamn years…”

He goes quiet and I watch a thousand emotions play within the forests of his eyes. I squeeze his hand, my jaw tightening as I prepare for exactly what he says isn’t going to happen but feels inevitable.

“What are you trying to say, Graham?”

He licks his lips, closing his eyes on a heavy exhale. “I’m trying to say that you never fucked this up before. I did in the end, and I refuse to fuck it up again—”

“Graham—”

“I’ll come to Boston,” he says suddenly. I blink, eyes wide as saucers as I take in the conviction in his tone, the rigid set of his lips.

“What—"

“I’ll come to Boston. I’ll find a job up there, Elias will vouch for me as a reference- it won’t be hard. But I can’t go back to Lightning Cove if you’re not going to be there too. I can’t go back to my life only to spend it waiting around for you to come home. I can’t… I can’t say goodbye to you again, mi reina. It hurts too goddamn much to even think about. So, I’ll come to Boston and I’ll restart and—”

“Graham,” I cut him off, tears welling in my eyes as I shake my head. “You can’t come to Boston.”

“Why not? I have nothing holding me to South Florida except El Rincón. It makes the most sense for me to come to you so you can do your fancy lawyer job—”

“No, Graham,” I laugh a little, taking his face in my hands so I can look him in the eye when I say, “You can’t come to Boston because I won’t be staying in Boston.”

He blinks down at me several times before muttering a soft, “Qué?”

Sniffing back my own tears I tell him. “I sent an email to my boss this morning telling him I found other opportunities closer to home.” I shrug. “I quit, Graham. I quit the job.”

His mouth falls open, lips flapping, adorably confused as he looks between my eyes in complete and utter shock. “You… But you’re flying back tomorrow—”

“To pack up my shit,” I laugh. “I have to get it sent back home. I don’t know where I’m going to store it until I find my own place but—”

“Live with me.” He grabs hold of both my wrists like a life line, my hands still framing his perfect cheekbones. “Send it all to me.”

Shaking my head, I try to protest, “Graham—”

“Naomi, I am so fucking done putting distance between us.” He buries his hands in my curls. “Come home and move the fuck in with me before I fucking die of misery. We don’t have to stay in my shitty little place. I’ll have Clara find us something better while I wait for you, but please, Naomi, por favor… Move in with me.”

My chin trembles, thinking of where we started, standing in his shitty apartment with his minimal amount of furniture or food but neither of us caring because we were so absorbed in each other. Everything had been so shallow then, lost in the haze of booze and bad decisions. I don’t know whether I want him to find a new place that can be all ours or if the memories will make it matter more to stay. I do know that the hideous beige cabinets would have to go. And the carpet in the bedrooms. And the walls need a touch-up—

Actually, a new apartment is probably the best route for both our budgets.

“You really mean it?” I ask him carefully, banding my hands around his neck. “You want me to move in?”

“Want?” He laughs. “Naomi, I fucking need it. I need you in my bed every night when I fall asleep, and I need you to be the first thing I see when I wake every day. Please say yes, mi reina,” I beg. “If you want me to get on me knees in front of all these people I will—”

“Don’t you dare,” I laugh again, nails digging into his hair. “You stupid, pretty boy.” I take a breath, blinking back tears. And because I’m already on a roll with agreeing to things I say, “Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yes,” I nod vigorously. “I’ll move in with you.”

He’s so fucking happy, his eyes actually sparkle as he picks me up and spins me around with no regard for anyone dancing around us. And I laugh too, freely, with abandon for the first time in too many years, clinging to him when he finally sets my feet on the floor.

“Wait,” he cocks his head. “What happened to being independent and making your own way?”