Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

He bet there was comfort in that, which he’d never had any use for before. But now, honestly, he could use a little TLC.

Zach hadn’t taken his pain meds in two days, so showering was a bitch, but he got through it, dressed and walked out to his truck. He stopped short at the sight of Brooke getting out of her car.

She was carrying a bag from the local sandwich shop and wore an expression that said she wasn’t too sure of her welcome, an expression that changed to disbelief when she saw the keys in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m bringing you something more substantial than pizza or McDonald’s.” Her eyes met his. “Now you.”

“I was coming to see you.”

She let out a breath. “Okay, you have no idea how I both love and hate that. You shouldn’t be driving. How are you feeling?”

Like I missed the hell out of you. “Great.”

She arched a brow.

“Good.”

“Zach.”

“Okay, like shit. I feel like complete shit.”

With a sigh, she stepped close, and did something he hadn’t expected, given how things had gone the last time he’d seen her.

She hugged him.

For a moment, just a heartbeat, really, he stood still, shocked, because normally when he pushed someone away, they willingly went. After all, he was a master pusher when it came right down to it. And he’d all but thrown her feelings for him back in her face.

But Brooke, petite, sweet-but-steely-willed Brooke, hadn’t just held her ground with him, she was pushing back.

If that didn’t grab him by the throat.

Unable to resist, he slid his arms around her, pulling her in tight. Bending his head, he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.

Keep it light, keep it casual…

But then she was pressing her mouth to his cheek and he was turning his head to meet her mouth, and as he deepened the kiss he knew the truth.

He didn’t want to push her away anymore. He really didn’t. So he hoped like hell someone threw him a line, because he was going down.

“You need to get back inside,” she murmured. “You’re pale.”

Pale, and apparently stupid, because he kissed her again.

Deep.

Wet.

He was in the middle of working on the long part, but she pulled back. “Careful, I’ll hurt you-”

Shaking his head, he kissed her again, then dropped his forehead to hers. “No.” Drawing a deep breath, he straightened and pulled free. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Oh.” She stared up at him, then took a step back and nodded. “Right.”

They were still just staring at each other when Aidan pulled up, followed by all the guys.

Incredible timing, as always.

“Okay,” Brooke said. “I’m going to go.”

“No, don’t.”

“No, really. It’s okay. I just wanted-” She thrust the bag of food in his hands. “Here.”

“Wait-”

“Listen, I know I wear my heart on my sleeve and feel too much, but I’m not slow. I really did hear you the other day, what you were trying to say. You don’t want me to get invested, and I get it. I’m leaving and all that, and this was never about that kind of thing. I just want you to know that I understand, and there’s no hard feelings.”

Damn, she killed him. “Brooke-”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t go there. Not now.”

“Fine. Later, then. Just please stay until I get rid of these guys?”

She glanced at them all getting out of their cars. “Okay, but Zach? That kiss…”

He couldn’t help looking at her lips again. He could still taste her. “Yeah?”

“That didn’t feel like a hey-how-are-you kiss. Or even a one-night-stand kiss.” She moved in and whispered for his ears only. “It felt like a helluva lot more.”

Yeah. It had.

“So you might want to think about that next time you tell yourself I’m the only one going to get hurt here.”

Everyone entered Zach’s house, carrying food and news of their day. Brooke joined them because Zach had asked, but mostly because she wanted to. She wanted to be with them.

With Zach.

He sat sprawled on the couch, and if it hadn’t been for the cast, the bandages and the slight paleness of his face, she’d never have guessed that he’d nearly died.

Her heart tightened at that, but she’d always licked her wounds in private, so stressing about what could have happened, as she had been doing since the fire, would have to wait.

Sam tossed her a soda.

Dustin handed her a plate.

Aidan kicked a chair her way.

She sat in the chair, holding the soda and plate, staring at the group talking and laughing amongst themselves, a huge lump forming in her throat.

She really was part of them. She belonged. And hadn’t that been what she’d been looking for at the beginning of the summer? A place to belong?

Zach sipped his soda, his eyes hooded as he watched her over his drink.

She watched him back.

Around them, the laughter and noise went up a notch, but Zach didn’t join in. Probably because he was hurting far more than he’d let on. She could see it in the grim set of his mouth and the lines of exhaustion on his face. He eyed the pizza on the coffee table in front of him but didn’t take a piece.

He loved pizza.

“You okay?” Aidan leaned in to ask her quietly.

“Not me I’m worried about.”

They both eyed Zach. “Let’s try this.” Aidan tossed two slices of pieces on a plate, then handed it to Zach. “Hey. The annual picnic is in one week.”

“So?”

“So we need an anchor for the tug-of-war against Firehouse 32.”

“I repeat. So?”

“So no pansy-asses need apply. Eat up.”

“Not hungry.”

“Really? You like being home all day, watching Oprah, eating bonbons?”

Zach opened his mouth, probably to tell Aidan where to go, but the doorbell rang again, and in came Cristina, carrying a tray of cupcakes.

Everyone looked at Dustin. Everyone except Cristina, that is, alerting Brooke to the fact that something was going on. Happy not to be at the center of the gossip mill for once, she watched with fascination as the blonde shuffled around without her usual cockiness.

“The grocery store had a small fire in their bakery.” She set the tray down and grabbed a cupcake in each hand before looking at the gang, carefully avoiding Dustin’s eyes. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” everyone but Dustin said.

Cristina sighed and faced the silent and clearly brooding Dustin. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry.” She offered him a cupcake. “Very sorry.”

Dustin stared down at the double chocolate fudge cupcake, eyes shadowed, mouth unaccustomedly tight. He didn’t take it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called dessert. It’s what people do when they’re sorry. They bring people treats.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You know why.”

“Say I don’t.”

Cristina sighed. “I’m sorry I got mad when you wouldn’t have sex with me again.”

Dustin raised a brow in tune to the juvenile catcalls from the guys.

“I am sorry, all right?” Cristina ignored everyone else. “Jesus! Would you just eat a damn cupcake?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh my God.” Cristina sighed again, looking at the others, all of whom got real busy with their cupcakes. “Look, I really needed to get laid, okay? It’d been too long and you might have noticed that I was a little on edge.”

“Was?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you’re on edge for other reasons,” Dustin said. “Ever think of that?”

“No.” She waggled the cupcake in front of his nose. “Are you going to take this or not?”

Dustin took it, then licked the frosting while studying Cristina thoughtfully.