Page 37 of The Bad Brother
A FTER MY MEETING WITH DR. RAGNAR, MY night got progressively worse.
A bunch of kids got thrown out of the bed of a truck while playing chicken with another vehicle on one of the countless FM roads between here and Fort Worth.
I spent the last eight hours of my shift doing a full pelvic replacement on the sixteen-year-old driver and an above-the-knee amputation on his fourteen-year-old sister.
When I finally got back to the Mill, it was packed. So packed, I had to park across the street. Navigating my way to the front of the long line of people waiting to get in, I give Austin a tired smile. We’ve been doing this for weeks now but I’m always worried he won’t let me in.
“Hey, Doc,” he says, dropping the arm he has braced against the wall to let me in. “Not sure Riv has time to talk tonight, it’s crazy in there.”
“That’s okay,” I tell him, ignoring the collective groan behind me when it becomes obvious Austin is going to let me cut the line.
“I’m too tired to do much except go upstairs and shower.
” Like it heard me and disagrees, my stomach lets out a loud rumble, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything but a yogurt cup since breakfast. I ignore that too. “Good night, Austin.”
Giving me a sheepish grin, Austin reaches up to touch the tip of his finger to the bill of his battered ball cap. “’Night.”
Leaving it at that, I push myself into the crowd, side-stepping and weaving my way across the bar while doing my best to aim myself in the direction of the staircase that’ll take me up to the loft.
Passing by the crowded bar, I catch glimpses of a grinning Jensen behind it, popping the caps off a round of long-necks for a gaggle of cowgirls with stars in their eyes.
You’d never know that he nearly bled to death on my kitchen floor, twenty-four hours ago.
Or that he fucked your throat after making you come so hard you forgot your own name while his best friend stood in the hallway outside your front door and listened to the whole thing.
Cheeks flaming hot, I keep pushing past the bar on a string of muttered sorry s and excuse me s until the crowd spits me out in the short hallway that houses the staircase to the second floor and what I’m assuming is the door that leads to some sort of office, directly to its left.
Taking one last look at the bar, I manage to squeeze past a couple, making out at the end of it, and plow headlong into a warm solid wall of fantastic-smelling cotton so hard I drop my bag.
“Whoa there.” Rough, tattooed hands wrap around my upper arms to steady me and keep me on my feet.
Looking up, I find Cade standing over me, that shitty smirk of his tugging at the corner of his generous mouth.
Whatever he sees on my face kills it in an instant.
“Hey—” His hands tighten for just a moment like he’s afraid I’m going to make a run for it. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay?
I just had to take a little girl’s leg because it was crushed by nearly two tons of metal and fill her older brother full of titanium rods and artificial parts so he’d have a fighting chance at ever walking again.
Am I okay?
No, not really, and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about fucking your friend, even after the nightmare I just navigated, makes me feel about a thousand times worse.
“Yeah.” Pushing a smile onto my face, I give him a nod. “I’m fine.”
Still smiling up at him, I watch his brilliant blue eyes narrow slightly and his jaw flex. “Try again, Doc.” When I don’t answer him, his expression darkens even further. “Did something happen? Did someone?—”
Shit.
“No. Nothing happened.” Shaking my head, I let the fake smile fade. “It was a rough shift, that’s all.”
When I say it, his shoulders relax and his hands loosen their grip before dropping away completely. “Okay.” Taking a step back, he stoops down to pick up my bag. Offering it to me, he cocks his head at the bar. “Want me to get Jen?” he asks before shooting a quick look over my head. “I’m sure he?—”
“No.” Reaching for my bag, I pull it out of his grip. “You guys are slammed and I don’t want to bother him.” Shouldering my bag, I give him another smile, this one feeling a little more genuine. “Please, Cade—don’t tell him I’m here. Just… I just want to go upstairs and go to sleep.”
His jaw tightens for a moment before he finally nods.
“Alright, Doc—you win,” he says, skirting past me on his way back to the bar.
Pushing past the couple making out in the corner, Cade plants his hands on the bar top and vaults over it before disappearing behind the crush of people clamoring around it.
Looking after him, I catch one more glimpse of Jensen and feel a pang of regret because the only thing I want more than sleep is to feel his arms wrapped around me while I’m drifting into it.
Stop it, Sloane.
Stop making it more than it is.
Stop, right now, before you get hurt.
Turning away from the bar, I climb the steps that’ll take me home, alone.
OUT OF THE SHOWER, I HAVE EVERY intention of throwing myself into bed, face down, and sleeping for the rest of my life.
That all changes when I step out of the bathroom while shrugging into the soft cotton T-shirt Jensen left here weeks ago because the rich smell of melted butter and fried cheese sets off another round of hunger pangs.
Someone is here.
Stepping close to the railing, I look out over the apartment. From this angle it looks empty but I can hear someone in the kitchen. “Hello? ”
“It’s just me, Peach.” Jensen’s voice floats up to me, the deep tone of it sending my heart ping ponging around my chest. When he doesn’t say anything else, I make my way to the stairs, taking them slowly while trying to get myself under some semblance of control.
You’ve had sex with this man, Sloane. Twice. What is there to be nervous about?
Sex, yes.
We’ve had sex.
Mind-blowingly hot, ridiculously satisfying sex, the likes of which I have never experienced and am almost certain I’ll never experience again with anyone else but him.
That’s it.
But the fact that he’s in my kitchen, cooking of all things—unannounced and uninvited—at 3AM says something else. It says that whatever’s happening between us isn’t just about sex.
It says it’s about something more.
Stop it, Sloane.
Stop making it more than it is.
Stop, right now, before you get hurt.
Stepping into the kitchen, I round the corner just in time to watch Jensen slide what looks like a grilled cheese sandwich from the frying pan onto a plate. Looking up at me, he smiles. “How was your shower?”
“Hot.”
When I say it, he winces slightly before laughing. “I deserved that—are you hungry?”
I’m about to say no but my stomach answers for me with an embarrassingly loud gurgle .
“Right.” Laughing again, he turns away from me to pull a large ceramic bowl from one of the upper cabinets. “Sit down, I’ll make your plate.”
“No…” Embarrassed, I shake my head. “You don’t have to?—”
“It’s already done,” he tells me while he ladles what looks and smells like tomato soup into the bowl. “So, park your ass on that stool and eat your fucking sandwich.”
Despite his rough tone, I don’t feel threatened or scared.
I feel seen. Taken care of. Something I’ve never felt before—not once in my entire life.
I’ve felt spoiled. Pampered and catered to but never like someone stopped to really look at me and figure out what I needed . What would make me truly happy.
Dropping myself onto the closest stool, I watch while he sets the bowl of soup in front of me and offers me a spoon. “Is this you on your best behavior,” I ask, remembering the promise he made me last night.
“This is me, making sure you eat something besides granola bars and coffee, Peach.” When I don’t take the spoon, he slides it into my bowl before turning away from me to retrieve the plate of grilled cheese.
“How’s your shoulder?” I ask while I watch him move around the kitchen. Think about what we were doing in it less than twenty-four hours ago.
Fuck… that’s it—you can do it, Sloane. Be a good little peach and come for me.
“Still holding up.” He shoots me a quick, over the shoulder look. I can see the outline of the bandage covering his stitches under the thin fabric of his shirt. “Cade helped me clean and re-bandage it before we opened tonight. ”
When he mentions Cade, I give him a sour look. “I asked him not to tell you I was home.” Feeling betrayed and pretty irritated about it, I reach for my spoon to swirl it through the bowl of soup in front of me.
“Cade saw you?” Setting the plate of sandwiches on the counter between us, Jensen frowns, his gorgeous, mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. “He knew you were here?”
Okay—so maybe Cade didn’t tell him. “Yeah—” Stopping long enough to take a bite of soup, I give him a shrug. “I ran into him on my way upstairs.”
“And you told him not to tell me you were home.” Still frowning, Jensen lifts a grilled cheese from the stack and tears it in half. The cheese pull alone makes my mouth water. Leaning across the counter, he dips it in my soup bowl before taking an angry bite.
“You looked really busy,” I say, suddenly defensive for some reason. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
He gives me an exasperated look like maybe I’m not as smart as he thought. “I seem to remember telling you, just this morning, that I don’t care what I’m doing. I want?—”
“You said goodbye,” I remind him while I reach across the counter for the other half of the sandwich he’s eating. “You said you wanted me to say goodbye before I left. You never said anything about hello.”
For a second, all he does is stare at me.
“Huh.” Sounding half confused and half surprised, Jensen glares at me while he chews.
“ Huh ?” I mimic him while dipping my half of the sandwich into my soup. “What’s that supposed to mean?”