Let It Be Me, Becky Wade [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

responded immediately.

See you then.

Sebastian had been trying not to sink into depression over Leah.

Her brother was recovering, and so, of course, Dylan was her priority. The fact that she hadn’t asked to speak with him until now didn’t necessarily mean that she was fine with their breakup. He’d been telling himself that she might still be willing to take him back.

He hadn’t convinced himself.

Fighting down stress, he sat on a wooden bench in the garden, elbows planted on his knees.

It scared him to want something as much as he wanted Leah. Especially because he wasn’t sure what to do to convince her to give him another chance.

If you want to express how you feel about me, I recommend that you tell me, she’d said to him once.

So he’d decided to do just that. To tell her. That’s what he’d shown up at her house the other morning to do. But then Dylan had injured himself, and the time hadn’t been right since for an honest conversation between them.

Was the time right now?

Had he chosen the right approach? Not only did simply telling her that he loved her—putting himself out there like that—terrify him, it also seemed too simple.

He’d reached one of the most important moments in his life, a moment that would affect everything that came after. . . . And the man who’d always set clear goals, then taken steps toward those goals, had no confidence in the step he planned to take with Leah.

He’d have felt better if he’d booked them a trip or bought her a diamond bracelet or . . . anything else. Instead, he was here alone. Just him. And the words he needed to say to her.

He was trying to put her first. She’d communicated that she didn’t want gifts or grand gestures.

Even so, this setting and strategy didn’t feel like enough.

He didn’t feel like enough.

A sinking sensation moved through his torso. This was going to fail.

Leafless trees sent strips of shade across the dirt path at his feet. The plants across from him bloomed with white flowers. He picked a piece of fluff off his navy sweater and wondered if he should have chosen something nicer than jeans—

“Sebastian.”

He turned toward the sound of Leah’s voice. Sunlight highlighted the slopes of her face and the shiny lemon-colored strands in her hair. She wore the outfit with the polka dot shirt she’d worn in Atlanta.

The day they’d met, he’d thought she had the face of a world-weary angel, but he hadn’t known the half of it. He’d had no idea then of her quickness, feistiness, fairness. He hadn’t known what it felt like to kiss her. Or how one look from her blue eyes could set his world on fire.

Sick with worry that she’d reject him, he straightened to his full height.

She stilled. “You saved Dylan’s life, and I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. How can I thank you?”

He didn’t want her gratitude if he couldn’t have her. “A better man would say that you don’t have to thank me. But I’m going to press my advantage.”

“I expected nothing less.”

“As you know, I never let indebtedness go to waste.”

“I’m very aware of this truth.”

“You can thank me by taking me back.”

She angled her head a few degrees. Not shooting him down, but not saying anything, either.

Dread constricted his ribs. “Since the day we met,” he told her, “all I’ve wanted is to be with you.”

“At Claire’s house, you told me you couldn’t get any more involved with me.”

“That was stupid,” he said bluntly. “When I watched Claire’s dad hit you and realized that you’d broken your promise, it rattled me.” He struggled to find the right words. “You know when you fall, and you see the ground rushing up at you?”

“Yes.”

“The things that happened at Claire’s made my fears rush up at me. I’m sorry about how I reacted.”

“Okay,” she said simply.

“I definitely do want to get more involved with you.” It felt as though a splinter had lodged in his throat. He looked right at her, bulldozed past all his doubts, and forced himself to speak the words he hadn’t said out loud in twenty-four years. “I love you.”

She blinked. “Sebastian, I—”

“Almost all my life, I’ve felt like an outsider.” He couldn’t let her tell him they were over until he’d said what he had to say. “But I don’t feel that way with you. With you, I belong. That might not sound like much. But to me, it’s everything.”

She stepped to him, set her palms on his chest, and kissed him. The contact was feather-light, brief, tender. Even so, it had the power to flatten forests.

Did this mean she’d forgiven him?

Pulling back a few inches, she smiled in a way that gave him hope.

His hands cradled her jaw. “You are galaxies of stars to me, Leah. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can see my whole future in your face. And I desperately want the chance to love you.”

“Sebastian.”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready for me to complete the sentence I began earlier?”

“The one that started with ‘Sebastian, I’?”

“That’s the one.”

“Feel free, so long as your sentence isn’t ‘Sebastian, I never want to see you again.’”

“It isn’t.”

“I also hope it isn’t ‘Sebastian, I just want to be friends.’”

“It isn’t.”

“Then go ahead, Professor.”

Her body was warm against his. Her fingers interlocked behind his neck. “I was about to say . . .” She cleared her throat. “Sebastian, I love you.”

His heart stopped for a split second, then thundered. He scoured her face, hunting for proof that she meant what she’d just said.

“When I say that I love you,” she continued, “you can take that to the bank. I’m a mathematician and certainty is my currency.”

Joy overwhelmed him. He wasn’t experienced with this kind of joy, and now so much of it filled him that he couldn’t speak.

“You’re a hero,” she said.

“No.”

“You’re not going to be able to convince me otherwise,” she insisted. “You’re a hero—to me, and