Then came the car wreck. And everything went straight to hell.
Tool clenched his jaw as the memory surfaced. He hadn’t even known it was her on the side of the road that night. He’d driven right past with the others—headed for a bar, chasing beer and noise like it would fix what was unraveling inside him. Hadn’t even glanced twice at the accident.
By the time he found out it was Brandi, it was already too late. The guilt twisted in his gut every time he thought about it.She could’ve been injured more than the sprained ankle, bruised ribs and some scratches. Alone. Scared.
And he hadn't been there.
That night proved what he feared most—he wasn’t good for her. He didn’t show up when it mattered. He never said the right thing. Never made the claim official.
Then after months, he’d thought they turned a corner.
He left everything up to her, not wanting to be overbearing and controlling. Not wanting to scare her off. He had thought backing off was the right thing to do. That if he kept his distance, it’d be easier for everyone.
Now here she was, bringing him dinner, standing in the silence he created and asking to talk like he hadn’t failed her in every way that counted.
He looked at her again. She was holding the bag a little too tight, like it was some kind of shield. Her voice had shaken when she asked to talk, but her chin had been high, her spine straight.
Braver than he was. He stepped back and gave her room to get out of the car—not because he was ready, but because he owed her that much. At least.
“All right,” he repeated, voice rough. “Let’s go up, and talk.” Leading her upstairs, he opened the apartment door and waited for her to walk inside.
Chapter Forty-Two
The door shut with a thud,making her jump. She looked around the apartment. It was tidy—unlike the last time she’d been by. A new couch sat in the middle of the room. Two matching chairs sat like soldiers bracketing it. The coffee table had been replaced.
It looked…like a home now. “I see you settled in finally,” she said setting the bag down on the counter.
“Yeah we—the brothers, decided to toss out the old beat-up furniture and get new.”
So it wasn’t him per se—still, it looked nice. “Well, it’s nice.”
She busied herself taking out the containers and setting them aside. She found the plates and silverware right where they’d always been. Brandi glanced over once Tool hadn’t moved. He just leaned against the door watching her.
“How’ve you been?”
Tool raised an eyebrow at her.How had he been?That was the damn question she wanted to ask him.Fuck it. he thought. He sucked at talking. Sucked at trying to make sense of his feelings for her. She was his and that was the bottom line. Anything else they’d figure out.
Shoving off the door his feet ate up the space between them. He meant to be gentle. It went out the window as soon as his hand touched her arm. “You wanted to talk?” he snapped. “Here’s what I have to say.”
He pulled her into him, making her go up on her toes so his mouth could crush against hers—so his lips and tongue could taste hers. Tool tightened his arms around her.
“You’re mine, damn it, and I’m fucking tired of us running,” he said when he finally broke the kiss.
“You said you wanted me—any way I came. It’s time you found out what that means, Brandi.”
He stared into her eyes watching—waiting. Her chest rising and falling as her lips parted. “No holding back.”
Tool let her down and led her to the sofa. “Sit.”
She wanted to tell him no, only because he was being arrogant, bossy. But she had said no holding back. “I’m sitting.”
He looked down at her, crossed the room, and rested his ass on a window ledge. Space between them was a good thing.
“Why are you all the way over there?”
He lifted his eyes to her saw the way she sat back a little further into the leather sofa. This was him. All. Of. Him. No hiding behind a well-built façade. She wanted to know him—all of him—so be it.
“If I step back over there, I’ll strip you bare and fuck you into submission.” His words were all heat. He’d only given her one version of himself.
