More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(109)

“Greyson? Has it really been that long, Bean?” Her head jerked up at that unmistakable gruff voice, and her grip on the coffee mug slackened enough for it to list to the side.

“Watch the coffee,” he warned sharply, and she jerked her hand upright, fortunately not spilling any of the hot liquid. She thumped the mug down onto the seat and surged to her feet all in one motion.

“Harris!” She couldn’t keep the absolute shock, wonder, and joy out of her voice, and for a moment all she could do was stare at him as he slowly pushed himself upright before turning fully to face her. The rising sun behind him cast his body into silhouette, and she couldn’t read his expression.

She couldn’t hide her complete confusion at his unexpected presence on her front porch, not sure what this meant. Her arms crept around her torso as she held herself, longing to go to him but uncertain of his reception after their last phone call.

Harris could barely contain his joy at the sight of her. So familiar and adorable in her pajamas and robe. She looked shocked, unsure, and a little fearful as she hugged herself tightly. He recognized the gesture. She’d been doing it since she was a child, and Harris hadn’t realized the significance of it until now.

She was self-soothing. Hugging herself because she rarely allowed others close enough to do it for her. He shook his head. And strode toward her.

That was damned well going to end right now.

Tina watched in shock as Harris closed the distance between them in just a few short steps and wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. He enfolded her in his protective embrace while he whispered soft reassurances into her hair. She burst into happy tears, relishing the closeness. She felt loved and protected and so, so relieved to be in his arms again.

“You’re here,” she sobbed. “You’re here. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Bean,” he muttered, his voice thick. His arms tightened around her, and for a long moment they simply held each other. Content with just this wonderful moment of intimacy for now.

“You hung up on me,” she accused after the initial storm had passed, and he circled his hands around her upper arms before gently moving her away from his body so that he could look into her eyes.

“I didn’t want to waste a single moment more on that damned phone. Not when I had such a long drive ahead of me. I needed to leave as soon as possible if I was going to make it in time to watch the sunrise with you.”

“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.”