Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(73)

A hard lump lodged in her throat. He’d thought about her during his PT. Why did knowing that send a flutter of anxiety through her?

She was so confused. All her emotions swirled together in a big tornado inside her—fear, dread, hope. What the hell was she doing? They’d established the ground rules for what this was, and she shouldn’t be having all these thoughts.

“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You’re all uptight. What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes. “I knew I’d be bad at this.”

“What?”

“This casual-relationship thing. Just having fun.”

He looked down at her and lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not having fun?”

“No. I am.” She sat up and pulled away. “But I can feel myself getting attached to you.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Yes. I told you, I don’t want a relationship right now. The timing’s all wrong.”

“Maybe the timing’s perfect,” he said quietly. “Maybe this is just what you need right now to move from an unhappy place in your life to a place where you feel good.” He eased her back against his chest and stroked his hand down her arm. “You deserve to feel good, Brooke.”

His words put a knot in her stomach. “You sound . . .”

“What?”

She pulled back to look at him. “Are you really serious about this? About us?”

“Yes.”

The solemn look in his eyes when he said it made her chest ache. “But you said you wanted casual. I never thought . . .”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you wanted a big commitment or anything. You’ve always seemed like . . .”

He smiled. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Kind of a player.”

“I’ve changed.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder because it was easier than looking him in the eye when he was telling her all this stuff. She didn’t want to hurt him. Or disappoint him.

“I spent years steering clear of anything serious. I’d pretty much perfected the art of keeping things casual, playing the field.”

She felt a tug of relief. It hadn’t been just her. He’d definitely projected that image when she first met him.

“I basically dodged commitment of any kind—with the exception of my job. That had my full attention. But when it came to relationships? You’re right, I was like that. Was.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “What happened?”

Seconds ticked by as he stared at the ceiling. Then he looked at her. “The shooting changed me, Brooke. It changed everything.”

His whole body felt rigid now, and she waited for what he would say. He’d never talked about this with her, not in any detail. She stroked her finger over the scar the bullet had left on his shoulder.

“I was there, pinned in that truck, clutching my Glock in my hand and waiting for that sniper to come finish me off.”

She shuddered at the image and pulled her hand away from his scar.

“The gunshot wound, that wasn’t the worst part. My leg was so fucked-up, I can’t even describe the pain. And the whole time I’m trapped there, all these crazy thoughts are racing through my head. I’m thinking about my parents. My sisters. I’m thinking about my brother and my nieces and nephews, everybody. I was so sure I was going to die. I was certain of it. And I was smacked in the face with the realization that there was so much more I wanted to do with my life . . . so many things I’ve never done or never said to people. Things I never even thought about, because I was so cocky and arrogant and I always thought I’d have plenty of time.”

She envisioned him pinned in that truck, bleeding and sweating and believing his life was about to end. Her pulse was racing just thinking about it.

“And then by some miracle I didn’t die, but I ended up in that hospital and then in rehab, where I seriously wanted to die. . . .” He shook his head. “Rehab was bad, but I had a lot of time on my hands and I did a lot of thinking. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done. I took my family for granted a lot. And I hurt people, including some nice women who didn’t deserve how I treated them.”

“How did you treat them?”

“I basically took what I wanted and didn’t stick around for anything else. I avoided whatever wasn’t easy.”

He shifted to look at her. “I’m not like that anymore. I don’t take anything for granted now. Not a single day.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Not one night.”

Brooke stared at him, completely at a loss for words. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her, and she had no idea how to respond.

“This doesn’t happen every day, Brooke. We’re lucky.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t throw it away because you’re afraid.”

She sat up and scooted back against the pillows. “I . . . I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m confused, Sean.”

“Why?”

“Because I hear what you’re saying and I even agree with a lot of it. I know this—whatever this is—doesn’t come along all the time. At least, it hasn’t for me.” She sighed. “But every time I’ve invested in a relationship, every single time, I thought it was special and I thought it would work and I did everything I could and it still went sideways. And I just got out of a situation like that. I’m still getting out of it, and I can’t bring myself to trust anyone right now.”