Page 102 of The Pact
I know last night was a lot to digest.
Abrupt for sure.
And definitely not the way she deserved. She deserves something better than, “Marry me,” dropped in the middle of a grief spiral and legal crisis.
Presley should have thought, planning, and romance. Something that didn’t feel like I was asking her to step into chaos just to help me survive it.
Sure, the legal piece of it matters. I understand what the attorneys are telling me. I know how much easier this would be if I had a partner so the court could see stability, consistency, and reliability.
But it doesn’t change the truth. I meant every word I said. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been waiting years for this. I guess I just hadn’t allowed myself to think it was actually possible. Because Presley was … Presley.
She’s become my constant companion, and the one person I not only rely on the most, but the person I would never want to hurt.
So, in a way, I buried my feelings and told myself it wasn’t worth the risk. But everything has changed. And it’s put a whole lot into perspective for me.
Am I being selfish?
Yeah, probably. But it’s my truth.
I’m in love with Presley Grant, and I have been for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit to her.
And if I have the chance to make her mine, for real … I’m gonna take it.
Even if this chance is born out of circumstances neither of us would’ve chosen.
The bathroom door opens, steam rolling into the room, carrying the scent of her shampoo.
She steps out, her hair damp and her skin pink from the heat.
“Oh, hey,” she says when she sees me. “Sorry, did I take too long?”
I shake my head, pushing to my feet. “No, not at all. But if you’re done in there, I’m gonna take a shower before bed. Being at the rink all day, then around all those germy kids—it feels like a bad move, getting into bed like this.”
She smiles. “Fair.”
I step closer, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head as I pass.
“Hey,” I say quietly, touching her shoulder. “Thanks for being there today.”
She looks up at me, expression softened. “Saint, you don’t have to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say. “It means a lot.”
“I love seeing the kids happy,” she says. “And making friends.”
“Me too.”
She wrinkles her nose slightly. “Go shower. Now that I’m clean, I can smell your stink.”
I laugh.
“I don’t stink.”
“You definitely do.”
“I just feel like germs are crawling all over me.”
“And yet, you just kissed my clean head.”
