She ran to her building, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. She made for the kitchen, wrenching open the cabinet that housed the liquor. With shaking hands, she pulled the bottle down, but it caught on the edge of the shelf, flipped out of her slippery hands and crashed to the floor. The sharp smell of booze filled the air as Reese cried out in frustration. She couldn’t even pour herself a damn glass of whiskey.
Cursing wildly, she grabbed the remaining bottle and managed to tear off the cap and gulp down a healthy swallow before giving in to the tears. Salty drops rained down her face and the wracking sobs shook her body with such force that she couldn’t stand up. She sank to the floor, not even feeling the sharp bite of glass in the palm she flattened in an effort to keep herself from face-planting into the booze-covered tile.
“Reese, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
She glanced up to find Sloan in the doorway. “Get out,” she growled.
Worry creased his handsome face. Behind him, she could see Rylan. They were both looking at her like she was nuts.
She hated that. Hated that they were seeing her like this. She was the strong one, damn it. She was the one with the vision and the plan. She did not fall apart because she couldn’t have a damn baby. Yet here she was, sitting on the floor with a whiskey bottle dangling between her fingers.
A sudden burst of anger coursed through her. She threw the bottle at Sloan’s head.
He ducked, and it hit the wall with an explosion of glass and liquid. “What the hell was that for?”
“I can’t give you that!” she yelled.
“Give me what? A cracked skull?”
“A baby! I can’t give you a goddamned baby!”
Sloan turned around to seek help from Rylan, who raised both shoulders in wordless confusion. Then he turned back to Reese and softened his voice. “Come away from there, sweetheart.”
She looked at the wreckage—the broken glass, the spilled whiskey, her fucking life—and gave a mutinous shake of her head. What would either of these two men, these two gorgeous, capable, amazing men, want with her?
She was defective—part woman, part nothing. She was a good lay, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t worth keeping. A flawed vessel. Pour all the shit you wanted into her and she’d be empty by morning.
“I told you to get out.” The command sounded more like a plea. She kept her gaze fixed on the bottle, teetering between hating herself for this uncharacteristic act of self-pity and anger toward them for witnessing it.
Glass crunched under someone’s feet. “Heard you the first time.” It was Sloan who picked her up, and she didn’t have the energy to fight him.
“The whole town probably heard you.” Rylan, cracking a joke as usual.
“You coming?” Sloan asked the other man.
“Yes.”
She should have protested. She should have reminded them that she was an utter waste of their time. She should have. But she didn’t.
And without another word, Sloan carried her into her bedroom, and Rylan was right behind him.
19
Reese was hurting, and it broke Sloan’s heart to see it. Years ago, he’d vowed to be this woman’s shield, to stop anyone and anything from hurting her, but there was no outside threat to battle right now, only an internal demon that Sloan feared he couldn’t reach.
He brushed the tears from her eyes as he kicked open the bathroom door. “Rylan, start the shower,” he ordered without turning around.
While the other man cranked the hot water, Sloan quickly and methodically stripped off Reese’s clothes. She stared straight ahead, but when his fingers slid under the waistband of her panties, she started to protest.
“I’m fine.”
They all heard the shakiness of her voice. “You’re not fine,” he said quietly. “You’re ice-cold, sweetheart. Let’s warm you up, okay?” He nudged her toward Rylan and began removing his own clothes.
Once he was naked, he gently lifted Reese into the tub and under the shower spray. As the water coursed over their bodies, Sloan wrapped both arms around her from behind so his chest was supporting her trembling back.
From the corner of his eye he saw Rylan undressing too. A moment later, the big blond man stepped into the shower. Sloan twisted Reese around while Rylan came up behind her, and she seemed to sag in defeat when she found herself sandwiched between the two men.
Not a word was spoken as Rylan grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it up in both hands. He soaped up Reese’s back, her shoulders, her arms, before kneeling down to get her legs. Then he rose to his feet and handed the soap to Sloan, who wasted no time running it over the front of Reese’s body.
He ignored the slippery curves and smooth wet flesh gliding beneath his fingers. He ignored his hardening dick and the sudden quickness of his pulse. As much as he wanted to get inside her, he couldn’t erase the image of her grief-stricken face, her wild eyes as she’d hurled that bottle at his head, her anguished words—“I can’t give you a goddamned baby!”