Page 51 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

“ So I ’ ve realized something,” I say out of the blue.

Penn sits across from me at the table. I ’ ve never been to this restaurant before, but it ’ s cozy.

We ’ re tucked into a booth right in front of a roaring fireplace, and I can feel its heat radiating, warming me from the inside out.

This seems like a good place to say this, and now is as good a time as any, I think.

He looks up from his menu. “ Oh yeah, what ’ s that?”

“ That I love you too.” He ’ s mid-sip of his water when he chokes on it, coughing to clear his throat. His eyes widen, in a kind of disbelief that borders on awe.

“ You—what?” he croaks, still patting his chest. “ Say that again. Just so I know I didn ’ t hallucinate it while almost dying.”

“ I love you, and it ’ s scary. Mostly because I ’ ve decided that I need you more than you need me.”

He sets the glass down slowly, carefully—as if any sudden movement might shatter this moment—and leans forward. “ Pardon me?”

“ What?” I ask, missing what part he ’ s not comprehending.

“ I would literally be starving in a ditch right now if it wasn ’ t for you.”

I scoff at him. Alright, so we ’ re being dramatic now, got it. “ No, you wouldn ’ t. You ’ re successful. You ’ d be just fine.”

“ I was ordering food three meals a day and dry cleaning my socks, Soup.” Okay, well, that part is true. He ’ s come a long way. We have our routine now. Groceries together, cleaning and laundry, and when we both have time off, we meal prep for the week. I love it.

“ You would have learned on your own,” I correct. He picks things up so quickly, the other day, he was the one to make me dinner.

His arm stretches across the table, resting his hand on top of mine. “ No, I would have continued being miserable watching everyone mature, while I got left behind.”

“ No…”

“ Yes.”

“ We ’ re not fighting about this right now. You ’ d be fine without me!”

“ False. Plus, we ’ re not fighting, we ’ re debating—there ’ s a difference. And you ’ re losing by the way.”

I shake him off. He can really be infuriating sometimes. “ The point is, I need you. A lot. It makes me scared of how much I love you, and I wanted you to know that.”

This time, he ’ s the one to shake his head. “ You don ’ t need me, Bridgette.”

“ I do. You ’ re the one who gets me out of my own head. You make me feel safe, and you ’ re the one who made me realize something was wrong—the reason I did what I did today.”

His eyes bore into mine, giving me his full attention. “ What did you do today?”

I look down at our hands, resting so perfectly on the table. His large one protecting my own, literally shielding it, just like he always does. “ I spoke to my doctor about what ’ s been happening. She wants me to try a prescription, she ’ s fairly confident it ’ ll help me, with my—anxiety.”

We had a lot of talks about what happened. I guess it was a panic attack, a pretty bad one, too. They ’ ve gotten worse over the years, and I felt like, for the first time, I didn ’ t need to handle it on my own. Penn saw me at my worst, and he still stayed.

He asked me again last week if I ’ d be willing to talk to someone about how I ’ ve been feeling, and I guess I finally heard him and wanted to do something about it.

“ I ’ m so fucking proud of you, Bridgette.”

“ And I ’ m grateful for you. Seriously, thank you,” I say.

“ So let me get this straight,” he says, gesturing wildly. “ You and I are just two grown adults who love each other, both think we need the other more, and simultaneously think we ’ re not good enough for one another?”

I laugh at the absurdity. “ Yup.”

“ I for one am perfectly fine with that.” The smile he gives me makes my heart flutter. He holds up his glass of water to me.

“ I am, too,” I reply, clinking my glass gently against his.