More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

“You drove? Harris,” she rebuked, alarmed at how fast he must have been going to make the drive in just under six hours. “Why didn’t you take the helicopter? Did you even stop for any breaks?”

“One or two,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The chopper was reserved for the next twenty-four hours. I didn’t want to wait for it—I wanted to get here as fast as possible so that we could continue our conversation. Face-to-face.”

“You drove six hours just so that we could complete a conversation we were already having?” she asked in disbelief, and he smiled gently.

“Well, you see, ever since I came to this town way back in July, I’ve been plagued by this annoying . . . I don’t know . . . I suppose I could call it an affliction.” He appeared to think about that for a moment before nodding decisively. “Yeah, that works. I’ve been plagued by this annoying affliction.”

“You have?” she asked. Curious and a little concerned. He nodded gravely, hooked an arm around her waist, and led her to the swing. He carefully moved the coffee mug she had abandoned there to the floor before sitting down and tugging her down beside him. “What affliction?”

“I’ve been the helpless victim of a dumb, seemingly indestructible emotion called hope. Every time I think the fucker has died . . . something resurrects it. Last night . . . all it took was one word.”

“What word?” she asked breathlessly, and he smiled into her eyes before reaching out to hook a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips trailed down her cheek before wandering down to her chin and tilting it up so that her face angled toward his.

“Us.” His voice broke on the word, and his eyes shone with the love he had never been afraid to show her. “Two little letters, but they mean the world to me.”

His admission choked her up, and she couldn’t quite find the words she needed to say, but he didn’t seem to mind. He set the swing into motion and tucked her against his side as they watched the horizon, where the sun had once again gifted them with a painter’s palette of spectacular colors.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” she whispered, her quiet words barely registering above the natural early-morning symphony of crickets, soughing leaves, and the happy song of a pair of nearby turtledoves.

“I have no plans to leave anytime soon. I was trying to do the right thing, Tina. I figured you were starting a new chapter in your life, and there was no place for me in it. I thought that I would hold you back, keep you rooted in the past, and I didn’t want that for you.”

“Making my decisions for me again, were you?” she asked, and he pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“Yeah. I’m working on changing that about myself,” he admitted. “I thought I was being so damned noble, until Grey pointed out that I was robbing you of your choice. And that was the last thing I wanted to do. I tried to do this one selfless thing. But it turns out it wasn’t selfless at all—it was stupid and selfish. I was an idiot, I know that. And we can get back to my foolishness later, but right now I’d really rather talk about us.” He seemed to relish the sound of the word on his tongue. “I love that word. So small, but with such huge life-altering ramifications.”

“I told you last night . . . and I tried to tell you that night you left me. I can’t imagine a fresh start—a life, really—without you in it. A book needs all its chapters to tell a complete story, Harris. You’re an integral part of my story, and I want you in every chapter.”

“In what capacity?” he asked warily, and she swallowed, taking one of his large, beautifully veined hands in both of hers and stroking a thumb over the back of it.

“Well, we’re pretty good in the sack,” she started thoughtfully, and his brow lowered.

“I’ve noticed,” he muttered, clearly not happy with the direction the conversation was taking. “But I don’t want just that.”

“Let me finish,” she said with a mildly impatient glower. “I’m kind of making this up as I go along. Like I was saying . . . we’re good in bed, so sex—”

“Lovemaking,” he interrupted pointedly, and she smiled before rolling her eyes.

“So lovemaking has to be on the list.”

“What list?”

“The list I’m never going to finish if you keep interrupting me,” she retorted smartly.

He didn’t look too impressed with her.

“Tina. Please don’t toy with me,” he implored, and she lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m not. I’m working on the parameters of our new and improved relationship.” A big goofy smile lit up his face at the R-word, and she returned it with one of her own before continuing. “Lovemaking is definitely high up on the must-have list. Oh, and we absolutely need to share every sunrise. Or at least as many of them as possible.”