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“As I recall, you were begging for my cock.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “I do not beg.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Pixie, you do, too.”
I bat his hand away. “I refuse to discuss this.”
“I apologize for not using a condom. I promise I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since I moved to Winter Falls a few months ago. But if you want me to, I’ll get tested. Scratch that. I’ll get tested anyway.”
Damn it. There he goes again. Poking holes in my ‘you’re an immature man-child’ argument.
“I’m clean, too,” I say. “And I’m on the pill.”
“Now we’ve cleared that up. Let’s return to the discussion of us.”
“Do you have short-term memory problems? I told you. There is no us. There will never be an us.”
He steps closer until his heat surrounds me. “Why not?”
“I don’t have time for this. I have a ton of shit to deal with today. You’re not on my to-do list.”
He smirks. “Oh, pixie, you’re always on my to-do list.”
I shove him away. “I’m serious, Brody. My life is crumbling. And there’s no one here to pick up the pieces. It’s always me picking up everyone else’s pieces.”
“Whoa. Hold on. I’m here. I’m willing to help out however you need me to.”
“You!” I shriek. “The same person who can’t clean up his mess on the dining room table? The same person who thinks it’s funny to dress a goat up as a princess? The same person who set his bed on fire practicing for some prank?”
“One, themess is my work. Two, the princess goat was freaking hilarious. And, three, I’ve apologized about the bed and ordered you a new one.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I take care of everyone. I don’t have the time or energy to take care of you, too.”
“I’m not asking you to. I can take care of myself.”
I snort. “Which is why you’ve found somewhere else to live.”
“You want me to leave, I’m gone.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I want someone to take care of me,” I shout. “I want someone who thinks of me first. Not someone who expects me to drop out of college to care for them.”
Brody grasps my hand and leads me back to bed. He picks me up and sets me in the bed before crawling in beside me. “I think you need to explain yourself.”
“I need to phone the insurance company,” I argue but even I can admit my argument sounds pretty lame.
“They don’t open until eight and it’s not yet seven. You have time.”
I grunt because he’s right, but I’ll be damned if I admit it out loud.
He squeezes my hand. “I think I deserve an explanation.”
“An explanation about what?” I ask despite knowing exactly what he means. Crap. I’m the one acting childish now.
He ignores my snippiness. “Who made you drop out of college? Who made you feel as if you have to take care of everyone?”
