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19
Bronte buttoned up her coat while sidestepping a crack in the sidewalk. She hadn’t had the chance to break in her new boots yet, and they were severely slowing down her getaway. She was only a few feet away from her parents’ house when she heard the door open behind her. Reflexively, she turned as Chris jumped from the top step to the sidewalk in one bound and chased after her. “Please, Bronte, you have to talk to me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Fine. Then don’t talk. Listen.”
His pleading voice compelled her to do what he wanted, and after a few moments, she folded her arms and tipped her head to the side.
“Not out here.” He held out his hand. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but it was enough to dampen their clothes in a few seconds. “Come inside.”
She frowned. If she went inside, she wasn’t sure how long she could keep her wall up.
“Please. Please, Bronte.” His voice broke on her name, and she gave in, damn it, releasing her arms to let him guide her into his house. Though when he tried to take her coat off, she tore away from him. She gave him an inch; she wouldn’t let him take a mile.
He pointed to the couch. “How about a seat?”
She sat stiffly and crossed her legs.
“Comfortable?”
“I’m listening, but so far, you haven’t said anything,” she said primly, careful to avoid meeting his gaze.
He took a deep breath. “First of all,” he started quietly, “I’m sorry I got in between you and your family. I would never intentionally do anything to cause a rift between you guys.”
She nodded. He loved her family; that much she knew.
“And I’ve been thinking about what I would do if I could do it all over again. If I could sit down next to you on the plane again, would I tell you who I was? But you know what? I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t because I think if I did, you wouldn’t have talked to me. You wouldn’t have taken the time to get to know me.”
He was putting words in her mouth, and even if he was right, she didn’t appreciate it. “That’s not—”
He talked right over her. “I get that you like having everything in your life planned out, and you’d probably prefer me to be an accountant or someone with a nine-to-five job. I get it. I get why I make you nervous.”
At that, she uncrossed her legs and arms, opening up to him. She dragged her eyes up from his shoes to his chest, where his hand pressed over his heart. His eyes were dark, rimmed with red, and it stung to see him hurt, no matter how angry she was. He wasn’t the type of man she expected to be with, but that didn’t mean she wanted him any less.
His gaze searched hers for an eternity, and whatever he found there—maybe her own worn-out heart—had him cautiously sinking down next to her. “You have to know, I’m nervous too. You’re this wonderful person, who by some chance of fate fell into my life, and I’m scared I’m going to destroy what we have with my…well, by being me. That’s why I was afraid to tell you.”
Even though she could relate to his fear, she still wasn’t sure what to believe. CJ and Chris might be the same person deep down, but he’d lied, even if by omission. He had been acting all along—acting for her—when she was supposed to be the person he could be honest with.
“I did a lot of research last week,” she said after a while. “Some movie reviewer called you this generation’s Leonardo DiCaprio.”
He huffed at that, but otherwise stayed still and quiet.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to tell me because you knew what would happen? You figured you were on this vacation, why not try to hook up with some random chick while you’re at it because—”
“Bronte, no. No, no, no,” he muttered, reaching for her hands. She let her fingers mingle with his as he bent his head toward hers. “I never expected to meet you, and I certainly didn’t come three thousand miles for a hookup. What I told you on the plane was the truth. I needed to get away, clear my head, and let things settle down. That’s all true. I spiraled out of control after everything happened with my parents. I’ve never been the brightest kid,” he said with a laugh, “and I’ve always been a bit of a menace.”
He gently inched one hand up around her neck. “I’m an actor. I want to work and inspire people, like others have inspired me, but I’ve let a lot of bullshit get in the way of that. I’m trying to be a better person for my career, but also for my friends, for you.”
Her defenses melted, and she pressed her forehead to his. “For me?”
“Of course, for you. I’m sorry for not being honest with you.” He gently kissed the corner of her mouth. “It isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t want to lose what we have. Because whatever it is…it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So, you can be mad and not talk to me for as long as you’d like, just don’t give up on me, Bronte. Please.”
Her heart broke for the tender man, humbled and begging in front of her. He had been turned away from his family, but she would not do the same. “I won’t. I promise.”
With an audible exhale, he backed away an inch, his eyes darting between hers as a bright smile spread across his face. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else but you and your voice and how warm your lips are when you kiss me and how you go all soft in my arms whenever we’re together.”
The last of her resistance crumbled. She was tired of fighting with herself. Tired of fighting against him.
