Unable to watch any longer, she turned, starting down the hall, but Lacey stopped her with a hand on her arm. “He really has changed.”

But Kacey shook her head. “No, that’s Jordie. He loves kids, he’s good with them, and he’s a damn good man. But he’ll never love me the way I love him. It isn’t in his DNA.”

Lacey went to say something, but Kacey stopped her. “Let it be, Lacey. I have to let go or I’ll continually set myself up to be hurt by him.”

She shook her arm from Lacey’s and started for her room. Slamming the door, her tears fell faster as she headed toward her bathroom. Looking in the mirror, her lip quivered at the sight of how pathetic she looked. She looked so heartbroken and defeated. Why did she allow him to hurt her like this?

Turning the water on, she leaned over the sink, her tears mixing with the water that was running as she pulled in shaky breaths. Reaching for the hand towel that rested next to the sink, she wet it before washing her face free of tears. Holding it there, she allowed herself to sob into the warmth of the towel, and she hated herself for imagining it being the warmth of Jordie’s arms. He honestly gave the best hugs. The kind of hug that you felt all the way in the depths of your soul. And boy, did it linger. She could still feel his arms around her, suffocating her in the most rewarding way. That was one of her favorite things about him.

His hugs.

But would she ever hug him again?

And why did she yearn to?

He doesn’t love you!

That alone had another round of tears filling the towel until she heard the door open. She sucked in her cries as she heard him move into the bathroom. She knew it was him, their rooms were attached by the bathroom and, being the idiot she was proving to be with each passing second, she had forgotten to lock his door before she went in there. How was she supposed to hide the fact that she had been crying over him? Ugh, when were her parents going to be back so she could move in with them? Or maybe she could move in with Liam?

Or not.

She knew she needed to get out of this house though, which made her feel horrible because she was supposed to help Lacey. Instead though, Jordie seemed to be doing way more than she had been and that bothered her even more. She was family, he was only a friend. But even as she thought that, she knew it wasn’t true. Her family loved Jordie as their own. That was another reason she loved him so much. Her father thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and Karl King didn’t like many people.

When she heard the water turn on in the other sink, she lowered the rag, washing her face free of the tears and snot, trying so damn hard not to look at him. But she failed miserably. He was staring at her as he put toothpaste on his toothbrush, his eyes dark and full of the desire she was sure stayed in his gaze. He always looked at her in such an intense and fulfilling way. Her heart stopped as her stomach clenched just from being under his gaze. Looking away, she folded the towel on the sink, reaching for her own toothbrush. She didn’t want him to think he had any effect on her. She wanted to seem strong, but as she started to brush her teeth, she swore she could smell the coconut oil from his beard, and soon tears gathered in her eyes again. It was funny how one little smell or word or image could bring back a billion thoughts and feelings.

Another of her favorite things about Jordie Thomas was his beard.

It was her Achilles’ heel.

The feeling of it along her thighs, her throat, her lips…she loved it.

She loved him.

When a lump of a sob formed in her throat, she tried to swallow but it wasn’t happening. Spitting quickly, she washed her mouth out and then bent forward to wash her toothbrush, telling herself not to look at him. She could feel his gaze on every inch of her. It felt warm, perfect, but she knew it was bad. Jordie had a way of getting her naked—hell, he could do it to anyone and did, hence why he didn’t need her any longer. She refused to be his simple fuck, but as she sat up, her eyes met his and everything went still.

Desire burned between them and soon her lips parted as he asked, “Are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. She honestly didn’t expect him to talk to her.

“No,” she answered and she didn’t mean to. Her eyes widened at her honesty as he nodded, his gaze holding hers in the mirror.

“Me either,” he admitted and then wiped his mouth. “I would like to talk to you.” She stared at him blankly, surely imagining this as he continued, “When you’re ready, of course.”

“Ready?” she croaked out and he nodded.

“You’re still mad and probably hate me, with good reason—”

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered, looking down at the ground. “No matter how much I wish I did, I don’t.”

When she looked back up, he nodded. “Well, when you’re ready to talk, I’d really like that.”

Did she want to talk to him? Was this his plan to get in her pants and then break her heart again?

“Yeah, okay,” she muttered in a snide way, but that didn’t derail him.

“I really am sorry,” he whispered but she shook her head.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“No, really,” he said, bringing her attention to his. “I truly am.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if she could. His eyes held hers and she begged her resolve to stay strong. To ignore his sad brown eyes, his taut shoulders, or the way he looked like he had been through the wringer. She wanted to brush his hair out of his face, she wanted to comb his beard, she wanted to hold him. But she knew she couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t.