“Truth?” She licked her lips, catching a stray, salty tear in the process. “I’m terrified.”
“Good.”
His unexpected response had her physically recoiling. “Good?”
The confusing man stood just long enough to take a seat beside her. The mattress dipped beneath Brody’s weight, the heat from his body like a warm, comfortable blanket against her chilled skin.
I’m so cold. Why am I so cold?
“You remember me telling you Rocky, Jagger, and Liam stayed back at the scene while Christian and I took you to the hospital, right?”
Her head dipped with half a nod. “I was shot this time, not drugged.”
The flippant comment was meant to be a joke. A lighthearted comment to ease the molasses-thick tension filling the room.
But Brody didn’t laugh. He didn’t so much as crack a smirk. Instead he slowly lifted a hand—atremblinghand—to her face.
Cupping her cheek in the gentlest of holds, he told her, “If you’re scared, you’re more likely to be careful. And I need you to be careful, Princess.” An audible swallow. “I need you safe.”
Reaching up, Ro wrapped her fingers as far around his thick wrist as they would go. Her thumb absentmindedly brushed across his warm, naturally tanned skin.
“Iamsafe, Brody,” she whispered. “Because I’m with you.”
With him, she always felt safe.
But the stubborn man was already shaking his head before she was finished talking. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have a bullet hole in your arm.”
Yes, well, that was something she’d deal with later. On her own time, when she was alone so no one could watch as she curled into a ball and ugly cried. Until then…
“If you’re going to take the blame for someone else shooting me, then you’d better point that finger at me, too.”
“You?” That hand dropped with a sudden shove to his feet. “There’s not even afractionof what happened tonight that’s your fault.”
“Isn’t there?” She stood, careful not to jostle her arm too much in the process.
“No! There isn’t.” Spinning back around to face her, the same fingers that had touched her so gently seconds before raked angrily through Brody’s thick, dark hair. “I’m the one who promised to keep you safe. AndI’mthe one who was so distracted I missed a goddamnshooter!How could you even begin to think any of this was your fault?”
“You tried to talk me into staying home, remember? All week, you did your damnedest to convince me to call Clayton and tell him I couldn’t make it. You do remember those conversations, don’t you?”
More like tiffs she’d eventually won, though now she wished like hell she’d listened.
“Doesn’t matter.” Brody started to walk away as soon as she got close.
Ro shot out her good hand and stopped him. “Itdoesmatter!” she challenged back.
He didn’t attempt to move away again, thankfully, but he also wasn’t looking at her. She needed him to look at her. Needed him to see the truth of her words in her eyes.
I need him to see…me.
“Look at me.” A whispered plea that went unanswered. “Brody, please…”
In a hesitant move, those dark eyes finally came back around to hers. The pain there broke her heart, and suddenly Ro wanted nothing more than to take it all away.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted onto her bare tiptoes and pressed her lips to his rugged cheek. She could feel his entire body stiffen, a reaction she’d wholeheartedly expected.
And that was okay because this kiss wasn’t about physical need. It was about the love of a friend and her desire to comfort.
“What was that for?” he whispered softly.