“No.” Short. Blunt. Cut-off. “I just...I need some space and I don’t wanna be a dick about it, okay?”

She flinched, those words all too familiar. “Sure. It’s been a rough week.”

“It’s not...” He broke off with a grunt, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look, I need some time, okay? I know I said I wouldn’t be that guy, but...”

That guy? No, she laughed to herself, he doesn’t mean it like that.

“Please don’t look at me like that.” He gave her a sidelong glance, unable to meet her eye and dread fell like a lead weight in her stomach.

Well, hell. He wasn’t that different, after all, was he?

“I told you from the get-go that I wasn’t the guy you thought I was and no matter how hard I try, I can’t be what I want to be for you.”

Her cheeks burned like he'd flicked acid at her, because there was humiliation and there was fucking humiliation. The one man she thought would never...

“Come on, Jenn, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She crawled off the bed and skirted around to stand before him, grasping onto whatever composure she could find. She had to be hearing him wrong. “I know this is hard, Brody. I get that losing your grandfather has set you back...maybe even to square one...but I’m not afraid of that. I—”

“I can’t be with you right now. It’s best for both of us if we just—”

“Ahhhhh!” she screamed, slamming her fist into her thigh as hot tears flooded down her face. This wasn’t Brody talking—this was fear and shame and guilt, and he was making rash decisions because he’d gotten so lost in his own head, he couldn’t think straight.

Didn’t matter that she knew exactly what he was doing—it still hurt. God, did it hurt for him to push her away instead of holding on even tighter.

“You weren’t supposed to do this,” she whispered.

“Babe...” He reached for her, the regret so clear on his face that she almost fell for him again.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” She rummaged around in her dresser for something to wear, but all she succeeded in doing was tossing everything out. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t think.

If he left, he might never come back.

“Dammit, don’t make this harder than it has to be—”

“Me? You’re a liar! You said we were in this together!” she cried, painfully aware that it was probably for nothing. “I let you...I trusted you...” She broke, unable to finish the thought, let alone the sentence. She’d given him more than just her body.

“I know, babe. And I love that. I’ll never forget. But you...” He caught a t-shirt she’d flung at him. “I don’t want you to see me go through this, okay?”

Uh huh. Same song and dance. It was always about protecting her. Poor little Jenny. Incapable of anything more complicated than fucking. “Don’t play me like I’m stupid, Brody. I’ve made it pretty damn clear that I’m not afraid to get dirty—bleed even—if it means being there for you. Don’t insult me.”

He threw his hands in the air and roared, “I’m not trying to! I’m just saying this is gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. I told you that before. I can’t bring you along for that!”

“Do I look like a goddamn shrinking violet?” she snapped, stabbing a finger into the center of his chest. She was losing her shit and fast. Still strong, but not in the way she’d planned. Self-protection she thought she wouldn’t need again kicked in full force. “If you want to take the coward’s way out rather than deal with this together, fine. But don’t pretend it’s because I can’t handle it.”

He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Believe me, babe. I know how tough you are. The problem is—I’m not right now. And I’m too damn proud to let you hold me up through this.”

“That’s what people do when they love each other!” she cried, every fiber of her being shaking. “They lean on each other. They wipe away each other’s tears. They—”

Brody shook his head, his dark eyes clearer than they had been in days, and the truth sliced through her like an sharp blade of ice. Silence, loud and clear, filled the room.

“Oh.”

“Jenn...” He grabbed for her arm, but she was already halfway to the bathroom. “Don’t. Not like this.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, I’ll give you that.” Somewhere deep inside, her armor began to chink back together, click by click, giving her the power to turn around and look him square in the eye. “Congratulations, Brody. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve turned out to be an ever bigger asshole than Reed.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “At least he never pretended to love me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

He could’ve gone after her. He could’ve told her that she was the best damn thing in his life and that his feelings for her were one hundred percent friggin’ real. He could’ve made her regret that comparison to Reed mother-fucking Fletcher in a goddamn heartbeat.

But he didn’t. He let her go, because it didn’t change the fact that he had to hurt her now or hurt even more later.

Thirteen days later in a biker bar in Oklahoma City, nursing who the hell knew what number beer, he stood by his decision. This was where he needed to be right now. The smoke and the booze and the bone humming rock lulling him into complete numbness.

“Hope you’re ready to hate yourself in the morning.” Sam, suddenly the voice of fucking reason, shook his head when Brody waved the bartender over for another shot.

“That would be different than every other morning how?” He downed the Jameson and crooked his fingers for a refill. The burly dude with a braided goatee and a dozen piercings in his face smirked, took a twenty from Brody’s stash, and left the half-filled bottle on the bar. “Much appreciated, man.” Lifting his knuckles, they swapped skin before the guy went on his way, working the rest of the rough, loud-mouthed crowd.

“Jesus Christ.” Sam snorted before the lip of his beer. “This is about her, isn’t it? I fucking told you this was going to happen.”

“Yep. You did.” Brody spun around on the stool, Jameson in hand, feeling heavy limbed and a few shots away from sufficiently inebriated. “Let’s shoot pool.”

“Where? With those beauty queens over there?” Sam jutted his chin toward a group of OKC Devil Chasers currently using a redhead as a shooting prop. Her tits spilled out onto the table as the dude behind her spent more time lifting her skirt and slapping her ass than he did eyeing up his play.

Looked like a good time.

“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped off the stool and Sam grabbed his arm.

“You on a suicide mission or what? Sit your ass back down.”

“I wanna shoot.” And find that solitude he’d only get by hitting rock fucking bottom. If he needed to piss someone off to get there, so be it.

“You really are fucked in the head.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He rounded on Sam so fast, the room spun. Getting closer. “You did not just say that.”

Sam sat back on the stool, crossed his arms, and smirked. “Sure did.”

Funny bastard. “You don’t even know the half of it, asshole.” Taking a swig, he glanced back at the OKC table. Apparently the pool sticks in this joint were multi-purpose. The redhead looked pleased.

“No?” His friend laughed, pure instigation rattling his lungs. “I was there, too, Nelson. I saw the same damn shit you did. You think it doesn’t creep in on me every now and again? I see Troy more now than when he was fucking alive!”

Brody closed his eyes and conjured up the image that was never too far off. One minute, Troy was jaw jacking about getting laid and the next he had blood pissing from his femoral artery.

“I get that you were in charge that day. That you feel some sort of responsibility for what happened. You think the Commander hasn’t gone through worse? Reality check, motherfucker—this is what we do. Every one of us, every goddamn tour.”