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Not ever.
But definitely not when she was recovering from a lung injury and burns.
So, he stood up, left her room, and did what he should have done when he’d first paused at her door—he kept walking. Straight to his bedroom, straight into the bathroom, straight into the shower.
Scalding hot.
To scour her from his skin.
To burn through him, to warm him when her words filled his belly with frost.
He couldn’tstandher.
“Then why the fuck are you letting her stay, man?” he muttered, filling his palm with shampoo and slopping it into his hair, scrubbing vigorously.
Because he was a fucking pushover.
Because he liked taking care of her.
Because even though she was a bitch to him, she was a good friend to his sister, to Kim and Misty and Maggie and Shannon.
Because he’d seen the tears in her eyes, on her lashes, the one glistening on her cheek.
Because he was attracted to women who were complicated.
This was one puzzle he didn’t want to unscramble.
Bite the hand that feeds.
“Yeah,” he muttered, after shoving his head under the stream and rinsing out the suds. “Andyou’llbe the hand that gets bitten.”
Right.
A sigh.
Cranking off the water.
Toweling off.
Throwing on some pajamas and going to bed.
Except…he didn’t go straight to sleep. Since he was a fucking glutton for punishment, he left his bedroom, walked down the hall.
Walked slowly past his guest room.
Past Raven’s room.
The lights were off. The door was closed. And when he paused in the hall, listened intently, he heard…nothing.
Right.
This was stupid.
This wasreallystupid.
He turned on his heel, marched his stupid ass right back into his bedroom, and went the fuck to sleep.
Or tried to, anyway.
