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His is the face I’ve seen so many nights when I woke up from a terrible dream. To anyone else, it might look angry. Maybe he even is.

But to me? It’s the face of salvation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Michael

“You dirty fucking slut. Was that you getting jealous out there when Brennan was talking about my date?”

Part of me is fuming. Part of me can’t resist the glow of the lamp on Dean’s disheveled hair and the rosy flush on his cheeks. The way he’s looking at me as if I’ve got the answers to everything.

I put my legs on either side of his, bracketing him with my arms as he sits in the chair. “What the hell is going on with you lately?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

One thing I’ve always loved about Dean: he can’t lie for shit. Not to me. “Six years we’ve been doing this job, Dean. Why do you suddenly care?”

“I’m not jealous…exactly.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down though, and his fingers are twitchy. “Anyway, you remember Prince suddenly canceling dinner with me? That client of mine who asked me out? That waitress at Gil’s from about a year ago? Every time someone’s interested in me as something more than a hole to fill, you come barreling in to wreck it. You wanna tell me what that’s about, Mike?”

And people say he’s dumb.

“Sure.” My thumb glides over the soft bristles of his stubble. “It’s definitely about jealousy, Dean. Call it unhinged if you want. You can let whoever you want into that pretty ass of yours, but if someone tries to make it something more, I’m going to wreck your day. Nobody else gets to have your heart. That’s my domain.”

He presses his eyelids closed. This close, in the golden lamplight, I can see the blond fringe of his lashes, the way each one curls upward. It’s too much to ask not to brush my thumb over them.

“That piss you off?”

His jaw clenches, answering my question without words. “Why the hel—why the heck didn’t you come out and tell me?”

“Nobody here but us. You can swear all you want.”

He shakes his head. “You never said a word. Never even gave away you might be attracted to me until that night at the hospital when Brennan—” He bites his lips together. “You never said a word.”

Fair. “How was that going to go, Dean? I tell my roommate, my supposedly straight jock roommate, I’ve got a thing for him. God forbid you’re pissed or uncomfortable, I’ve got to spend the rest of the year living with someone who hates me in a three-hundred-square-foot room.”

Dean huffs a frustrated breath. “So instead of saying so, you were gonna punish me forever for being with your sister. For getting her pregnant.”

Ouch. Deserved, but ouch. “Not like I can punish her, Dean.”

Dean flinches, the usual warm blue of his eyes turning dark. “At least you admit it.”

This would be a bad time to laugh. I know it would be. But come on. “Is that really what you’re mad about? You love it when I punish you. Every night that you’ve woken up drowning in guilt, I’ve pulled you out and given you something else to cling to, and you’ve been hard enough to hammer nails.”

His expression softens, but only slightly. “Yeah, you did. And every night you left me hanging. Every night you reminded me what a fuckup I am.”

I grip his chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I’ve never called you that. Yes, I said a lot of things out of anger, but never that.”

He relaxes back into the seat. “It’s not like you’d be wrong. It’s my fault Ella has no mom. And that you had to stick around and help take care of her.”

“Stop.” This time I put my hands on either side of his face. It makes his lips push out in a sort of fish face, which might be humorous if the moment weren’t so tense. Strangely, there’s a burn at the back of my eyes, looking at him like this. At the awe and the trust on his face.

“Dean, I—” I love you. “I love my niece. It was never a chore to help you take care of her.”

There’s a quiver in his lower lip. When his mouth opens to say something, I cover it with my own, licking inside and pressing our bodies together. Seeking his heat, seeking his friction.

Neither of us is ready to say what he was about to say. Or what I almost let slip.

Because Dean was right about one thing—Ella’s the glue that holds us both together. If we make this thing between us real, and it doesn’t work out?