Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“What?” I asked. Why the hell did she look so frustrated?

“What?” She folded her arms across her chest. “You are…impossible. Can I get more than a two-word answer?”

My eyebrows hit the roof. “I’m sorry? This is the first time I’ve seen you since the Catskills, and you’re bringing up calendar dates and the weather, Bristol. What do you want me to do? Give you two thousand words on the forecast?” How the hell was I the one being impossible when I’d done everything she’d asked?

“I’d like you to show some kind of emotion! Do you have any idea what I’ve risked for this?” She flung her arms out sideways, gesturing to the space.

“Emotion?” That lump was back in my throat and growing. “I’m a fucking mess, Bristol. There, are you happy? If you came down here to rubberneck at the carnage of my broken heart like I’m some overturned eighteen-wheeler on the interstate, then I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. I’m more the lick-your-wounds-in-private kind of guy.” My hands fell to my sides. “And you’re right. I have no idea what you’ve risked, since I have no idea what the fuck we’re doing here!” Every risk in this relationship had been mine.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, whispering to herself as she counted to ten. Finally, she opened them, but the fire there hadn’t banked a single bit. “You are the most difficult man to ever walk the face of this earth!”

“I’m difficult?” I laughed, the sound more self-deprecating than funny. “What right do you have to be angry with me? You’re the one who said you didn’t want me!” That last word echoed off the brick walls like the accusation it was.

“Didn’t want…” Her mouth hung open for a heartbeat before she snapped it shut. “I never said I didn’t want you!” The look she gave me was somewhere between insulted and incredulous.

“You said it obviously wasn’t working. I may have been the one who got on the helicopter first, but you’re the one that called it quits!” And I was still willing to fight for it. Had I lost my fucking mind?

“Me?” Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she stormed over, angry as any hurricane I’d ever seen. She jabbed her finger into my chest, right over the Reaper logo on my T-shirt. “I. Gave. You. What. You. Wanted.”

“Really?” I captured her wrist, partly to keep her from poking me to death, but mostly because I was down for any excuse to touch her. “And what do you think that is?”

“Freedom. Your career. Take your pick.” Hurt flashed across her eyes and socked me in the gut. “You said long distance doesn’t work. You said the only reason you stayed that night in New York was because we never got to see each other. I set you free.”

“Wrong. I wanted you.” My free hand rose to cup her cheek. “From the first second I saw you, I only wanted you. Everything else was just an excuse. I still want you. I will always want you.”

“Cormac,” she whispered, her gaze lowering to my lips.

It was truth time.

“I talked to Silas a few days ago,” I said softly. “He’s pretty pissed, but he’ll arrange a trade with New York if that’s what I really want.” There it was, laid out before her in black and white. “If that’s what you want.”

“You did?” She sucked in a breath, and her features went taut. Shit…was that…panic?

I nodded slowly. “I did. After we got off the phone, I realized that you might not want me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not yours.”

“I never said—”

“Let me finish or I’ll never get this out,” I whispered, dragging my thumb over her lower lip, and wishing it was my mouth instead. “I haven’t changed my mind—long distance puts too much strain on a relationship, especially when NHL life means we don’t see much of each other during the season, but I also know that I can’t live without you. Survive? Yes. Live? No. My heart doesn’t beat the same without you, Bristol.”

Her palm flattened against my chest and her eyes went soft, filling my chest with an emotion I was too scared to call hope.

“So at the risk of looking like a complete fool, I’m asking you if that’s what you want—me in New York.” I managed to swallow past the boulder in my throat. “I’m asking you for a second—” I shook my head. “No. It’s not a second chance, because we never got a fair shake at a first. I want that chance. I want you.”

She blinked rapidly. “Oh, God. Cormac. You asked for a trade?”

I nodded.

“How far has it gone? Have you signed anything?” Yep, that was definitely flat-out anxiety in her eyes.

My stomach pitched sideways.

“Tell me you haven’t signed anything!” She clutched my arms with both hands.