Stephen stepped to her first and she touched the corner of his mouth. “You’re bleeding.”
He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, shrugged. “Guys fight. It’s what we do.”
“Yeah,” Nick agreed from the door, opening and closing his right fist like he was stretching out his fingers. “No harm done. We’re both still standing.”
An uncomfortable silence hung around them.
“I need to talk to my sister.”
Stephen wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulder. “I’ll stay as long as Hannah wants me to stay.”
Her eyes flicked between them and she caught Nick’s wounded expression like she was choosing the opposing team. “It’s okay. Nick’s right. We should talk.” Plus she couldn’t quite look Stephen in the eye yet.
“You sure?” Stephen asked.
She nodded and Stephen went back to her bedroom. Neither she nor Nick spoke in the seconds it took him to return with shoes and shirt on.
Looking completely at ease, Stephen bent and kissed her cheek. “I like the robe.” He straightened and spoke in a louder voice. “I’ll call you.”
The door closed, leaving just Nick. “So? What’s with the FBI knocking down my door?”
“It’s Thursday.”
Right. The day Nick set aside to have breakfast with her. She moved to the sink and wet a dish towel. His lip was bleeding too. “Hannah, what were you thinking?”
“When?”
“When you let him…”
“Let him what, Nick? You don’t know what happened and I’m sure as hell not telling you.” She tossed him the damp cloth.
“I’m not letting that asshole hurt you.”
Would he hurt her? Maybe. Probably. But last night he’d made her feel amazing. Beyond amazing. Was it all because he felt guilty for before?
“He has a reputation, Han. He’s not the kind of guy to—”
“To what? You can say it. To want a girl who looks like me?”
“Jesus, Hannah. No!”
“Then what? He’s seen my scars. Have you?”
Nick pressed his fingers against his temples. “Don’t do this.”
She put her foot on the end of the couch and opened her robe, showing leg from the knee down. She watched Nick’s nostrils flare with his internal battle not to look away. “You can’t even look at them.”
He stared at the towel in his hand. “That’s not true.”
“It is.” And even though she understood, it hurt.
“You’re past all that.”
“Am I? How can I be past it when you remind me every single day?”
He opened his mouth to deny it.
“You do, Nick. I’m sorry, but you do.” Tears and her own guilt clogged her throat, but she had to say it. “Every time you warn me. Every worried look reminds me of what I did and how it hurt you. And you’re so afraid it will happen again, you make me afraid. I’m tired of being afraid, Nick.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need a reminder. I’m reminded every single day of what happened. What I did. Every time I look at myself, every time I move and something aches. But how can I trust myself when you don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that, it’s just…” Nick sank into the couch, resting his forearms on his knees. Guilt emanated until she thought she might choke on it.
“Look.” She laid a hand on his burdened shoulder. “I know you love me. I never knew my mother, never even knew she was gone, and you filled that role, you—”
“You knew.”
“What?”
“You knew about having a mother. I held you in that church next to three teenage boys all determined not to shed a tear. But as they pushed the caskets by…even at two years old you were smart enough to know and you screamed for her. God, you screamed, until I thought the stained glass in the windows would shatter. You cried for weeks, months, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.”
She looked at the man who’d been everything to her. Her parents. Her brother. Her hero. “You did it. You were there.” But he needed to let go, just a little, for both their sakes.
“Mia thinks Stephen might be good for me.”
“I don’t give a damn what Mia thinks.”
“Why? Why would you say that?”
“Because I don’t trust her, especially when it comes to you. And you knew that or you wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”
Maybe, but she was still surprised by the level of animosity. He’d loved her once. “What’s the deal, Nick?”
“There is no deal. It was a long time ago and I had a lot going on. Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. Especially since I was the lot going on.”
“I don’t want to talk about Mia.”
She cocked her head at him. “No. You want to talk about Stephen.”
“Damn it.” Nick dropped his head in his hands. “I really hate that guy.”
She couldn’t help but smile at her large-and-in-charge brother’s pouty tone. “It must be hard for you, so used to giving orders and watching people jump.”