K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

“Haddie,” he pants as he tries to stop kissing me but continues doing it nonetheless.

“Mm-hmm?” My hands slip behind the waistband of his board shorts and squeeze the swell above his ass.

“Had,” he groans, “we need to talk.”

I still my hands, my lips against his, and pull back so that I can look into his eyes. I slide my hands up his torso, earning me a hiss of his breath until they frame his face. “Yes, we do need to talk. And I’ll talk all night with you … answer every question, apologize seven ways from Sunday,” I tell him, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his, “but right now I want you, Beckett.”

I can see the skepticism flicker through his eyes, the immediate doubt that we’re back where we started on day one. I rein in my need—to feel for the right reasons for the first time in what seems like forever rather than to use it to chase away the pain—and realize that I might be making the decision to step into the ring, but it’s not fair to keep him continually against the ropes.

He’s right .

As much as I want to cement our connection with the physical desire between us, we need to talk. I groan when I step back from the warmth of his body and exhale a shaky breath. I stare at the hollow of his throat for a second, suddenly nervous to speak with him because now this is all real.

“You’re right,” I finally say, my voice soft and heart pounding. I look up to him and meet his eyes. “You deserve some explanations.” Tears pool in my eyes because as much as I know I want this, I never thought how I was going to explain myself without sounding like a damn idiot.

“Come here,” he says, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me into him so that I’m back against the firmness of his body. “I just want to hold you for a minute, okay? Just give me this because right now you don’t need to explain shit except for why you’re never going to do this to us again.”

And I choke on the sob because my mind immediately goes there—to the poison in my body and how I might not have a choice whether I do or don’t hurt us again. But he said us , which allows me to quiet my head and snuggle a little farther into his comforting warmth.

He sighs when he catches what he said and how I took it, and squeezes me a little tighter to emphasize his words. “Not now, Haddie. Don’t think about it now. There are going to be plenty of moments, plenty of days where the cancer is going to get between you and me, but don’t let it ruin this moment. Because right now, you’re just this heartbreakingly gorgeous woman full of fire and spunk, and I’m this mild mannered guy who’s missed the hell out of you. You’re not sick, and I’m not healthy…. We just are .”

His words wind their way into my soul, take hold of my heart and start tying double knots in the ropes he’s looped there that connect me back to him. And for the first time, fear doesn’t fuel anything because he’s right: We have to live in this moment, appreciate this moment, just he and I.

City and Country .

The longer we stand there wrapped around each other, the easier it is to believe that we can do this. That I can let him in wholeheartedly and trust that he’ll make the best decisions for himself.

Regardless, I still feel that it’s important to make sure he’s well-informed so that he knows what he’s getting into.

“Becks, can we talk?”

He chuckles, the sound a welcome reverberation against my chest. “Now you’re starting to sound like me.”

“Funny …”

He pulls me with him toward the patio furniture protected from the sun under a trellis. He doesn’t release me but rather keeps his arm around me and guides me to sit on the couch so that I’m cradled in his lap, my back against the arm of it and my legs lying across his thighs. He looks at me, eyes narrowing, the ghost of a lopsided smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” he says, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips, my stomach fluttering with anticipation from feeling such a different type of emotion than I have over the past few weeks.

“Hi.”

He leans forward and presses one of his signature Beckett kisses to my lips. The most innocent brush of lips, but it leaves you feeling like he’s just opened you, stolen a piece of your heart, and is never going to give it back. And that’s a good thing because he doesn’t need to steal bits and pieces of it anymore…. No, I’m ready to hand it over wholeheartedly.

“I have a few things I need to say—explanations, apologies—so I’d appreciate it if you let me say them, okay?”

He nods his head to me and leans back some before licking his lips and raising his eyebrows to tell me that the floor is mine.

Or rather the ring.

“I watched Lexi die. Day by day, breath by breath. And when I wasn’t watching her, I was busy watching Danny fall apart. We were all devastated when she died, but he lost himself for a while. And then there’s Maddie and everything she’s gone through….” My voice fades off as I try to get a grip on my emotions so that I can get through this without breaking down because I really need Becks not to just listen to me, but to really hear me.

He runs a hand up and down my bare leg, my concentration so fierce to keep it all together that I don’t even realize he’s doing it until I feel the ache unfurl in my center. I welcome the feeling but know I can’t sate it until I finish this.

I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. Talk, then action; reason, then lust.

“So after Lex died, of course, the worry turned to me in my family. I’d already thought about it, already knew deep down, somehow that I had the same fate.” He starts to shake his head and correct me, but I stop him by bringing my finger to his lips. “Not the dying part, but the breast cancer part. It all weighed heavy on me, stole me from myself really. Then one night after I picked the broken pieces of Danny off his living room floor, knowing he’d never really be whole again, I swore I’d never do that to someone. I’d never let anyone get close enough to me so that when I eventually got sick, they’d have to suffer like Danny did. I vowed to protect the people I cared about, the people who had choices to avoid being in that situation … to never let someone love me….” The first tear falls over and slides down my cheek.

“Haddie.” My name is a sigh on his lips as he reaches up and wipes the tear away before I shake my head for him to leave it. He can’t touch me or I’ll fall apart, and I can’t fall apart yet. I need to finish this before I can break. Then I can use him— use us —to help fortify myself so we can move forward.

“I know, but it made perfect sense to me. And then you happened .” I look at him and see so many things that I never expected, most of which are the parts of me I’d lost with Lexi’s death. “I don’t know how to explain what … how you …”

“You don’t need to because I feel the same.” He scrunches his head down so that his eyes are even with mine.

“No, I do need to,” I explain, finding my words again. “You told me you loved me, and I stood there and shoved you away. I hurt you on purpose, and that has eaten at me. All I wanted to do was to call you and tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t mean what I said, but I was trying to protect you from this.” I put my hands out in front of my chest, my eyes closing momentarily while I try to figure out how else to emphasize how sorry I am.

“Had.” His hands are back on my face, directing it up so that I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “I told you I was in it for the fight. I wasn’t going anywhere. I still am and always will be.”