Tool stared at it for a long moment, jaw ticking, throat tight. He poured a mug, black, and brought it to his lips—more out of habit than want.
It was perfect. Just how he liked it. Of course it was.
He leaned back against the counter, holding the warm ceramic between his palms, eyes fixed on nothing. She’d been here just hours ago—curled against him, whisperingto him like a siren.And now… gone. Like she’d never been there at all.
He didn’t know if she left to protect herself. Or to protecthim. But either way, she’d taken a piece of him with her.
And left behind just enough to make him miss her more. Maybe that was the lesson he needed to learn.
Chapter Forty-One
It had soundedlike a good idea when she’d thought it up—sweet, maybe even brave. But now, sitting in the front seat of her Bug outside the garage, Brandi wasn’t so sure.
Still, here she was—parked in front of the garage, engine off, headlights casting two pale cones against the closed bay doors. The bag of takeout sat on the passenger seat, still warm. Her palms were clammy.
It had been weeks since she answered any of Tool’s calls. Avoided going anywhere she might run into him. Which meant she’d stayed locked up in her apartment. Parked her car out of sight instead of on the street. She’d become the coward she accused him of being.
Leaning forward, Brandi rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She tried to breathe through the knot in her throat, to summon the kind of courage she used to have. The kind that hadn’t gone all soft when it came to him.
She’d seen him leaving LuLu’s and drove past without so much as a nod. She’d picked up her car later that same day, half-hoping he’d still be around. But he wasn’t. No note. No sign. Just the fixed-up Bug and a few words from Wrench about what had been done.
Earlier today, she’d seen him again—briefly. Parked outside the Firehouse. She’d watched from across the street as he walked inside, still broad-shouldered and unreadable, the kind of man you couldn’t look away from, even when you knew you should.
Why?
Because she loved him.
And her heart, stupid thing that it was, didn’t seem to care that he’d never said the words. Never made a move. Just hovered at the edges of her life like a shadow with warm hands and haunted eyes.
She blamed herself for leaving without so much as a thank you. She’d left to escape the pain that would come when he didn’t want her as his ole lady. She’d had enough of chasing the uncatchable.
A knock at the window jolted her upright. She turned, breath catching, and found herself staring into eyes the color of dark chocolate, unreadable as always.Tool.
He didn’t wait for her to roll the window down. He opened the car door instead, gaze dropping to the plastic takeout bag she fumbled to grab.
“I brought dinner,” she said, her voice thinner than she liked.
He arched a brow. “Did you?”
She swallowed. “I thought we could talk.”
Tool didn’t move, didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, one hand resting on the roof of the car like he was deciding whether to lean in or walk away.
Brandi lifted her chin. “If you’re not gonna deal with this… us… then I will.”
A beat. Then another. Finally, Tool stepped back, giving her room to get out. “All right,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
Talking to her—seeingher—was the last damn thing he wanted to do.
But there she was, sitting in her blue Bug with a takeout bag on the passenger seat and a look on her face that shattered something in him all over again.
It hurt to look at her. Hurt more to hear her voice.
He’d been spiraling since the fight with Killer. The bruises had long faded, but the shit that surfaced between them hadn’t. He’d told himself it was fine.
Then she rescued him from drowning in a bottle of scotch. Stayed with him through the night.
Before that, he’d thought he’d made it clear she was his—maybe not in words, but in the way he watched her, looked out for her, didn’t look at anyone else. Thathadto count for something, right?
