Page 285 of Branded
Yeah.
That last one.
Except, when I opened my mouth to spit out that excuse, to spew the others, he slowly lifted his hand, his thumb brushing against my lashes.
To my horror, I realized that there was a tear there.
That somehow some of the emotions I kept so carefully bottled up inside me were escaping, and worse, that they were manifesting themselves in tears.
Cas leaned in.
I sucked in another breath, more emotions, more roiling.
Because the kiss in the bathroom? It had been the best I’d ever had. Ever.
His lips hit my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
Then he was backing away from me, slipping out through the swinging door, leaving me in the quiet kitchen.
I heard glasses clink, the rattle of ice, the swoosh of the soda machine, and it didn’t surprise me in the least when he pushed back into the kitchen, a glass filled to the top with Sprite, bubbles skating up the insides, bursting at the top. He placed it in my hand.
“Drink.”
A soft order.
And then he was rooting through the bag again. Considering all the bandages were on the steel countertop and the antibiotic ointment was sitting next to it, there wasn’t really anything I needed.
Then he held up the small packet of ibuprofen and my heart squeezed tight.
How he knew my arm was beginning to throb, I didn’t know. Or maybe he was just assuming that the gouges had to be hurting…because that was what any normal person would assume. It wasn’t anything special about me or him or our situation.
He just was a thoughtful human being.
That was all.
Except then he paused, the packet grasped in between fingers and thumb. “Have you eaten tonight?”
And right on cue, my stomach grumbled.
I had eaten—Matt had shoved something at me during the beginning of my shift, convinced that I never ate enough.
A few years ago, when I’d first gotten a job here, that might have been right.
Things had been Tight, with italics and a capital T, because between the move and medical bills and getting my apartment set up and childcare and security deposits and?—
Yeah, I’d skipped more than a few meals.
Thus was the life of a single mom who seemed to make a career out of getting fucked over by men.
“I ate earlier. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, holding my hand out for the packet.
Cas shoved it into his pocket, then turned away from me and moved to the big walk-in fridge. Curious, I didn’t protest, just sat there and watched him survey the contents for a long moment before he reached in and…
Pulled out an apple.
That hit the counter next to him and then he was reaching up to the top shelf, shirt riding up again and making more clenching happening between my legs.
For fuck’s sake.
