Page 58 of Booked for the Holidays
I practically snort. His ego? Ha! It’s got nothing on mine. I’m the idiot who didn’t think twice about hauling-ass to the hospital when I thought he was injured. And for what reason? Because I care even if I wish I didn’t.
“Five stitches.” He points to his brow. “It could scar and the hair might not grow back right.”
“Poor thing.”
“Mr. Hargrove, your discharge papers.” The nurse dips inside the curtained-off room to hand Liam his paperwork. “Check out at the front when you leave.”
“Thank you.” He smiles at her, but the second she’s gone, his eyes come back to me and his grin softens.
He sees it then and his gaze drops to my sweater where the tiny firefly brooch glints under the fluorescent lights. He lifts his hand, brushing a knuckle gently over the pin.
“It looks perfect on you,” he murmurs. The teasing edge in his voice is gone. What’s left is something warm and sincere that makes my throat tight all over again. “Better than I imagined.”
My arms stay stubbornly crossed, but my chest aches. “Don’t try to distract me.”
His eyes lift to mine, searching, like he wants to say more but can’t quite find it yet. Then he shifts closer, his voice soft. “Hey. Come here.”
I hesitate, but his hand finds my hip, tugging me the last few inches. I let him, even though my heart is hammering so hard it might break free.
“You came to see me?”
I shrug. “I was in the neighborhood.”
He huffs a laugh, but it’s soft. Like he doesn’t want to break whatever moment this is.
“You said you care about me?”
“I was stressed,” I mumble, looking anywhere but at him. “People say odd things under duress.”
“Is this the part where you take it all back? Say you were only being nice to a severely wounded man?”
I roll my eyes. “I was trying to give you a reason to live, obviously. Thought it might help. Maybe I’ll swing by the other triage stations to see if anyone else needs a little pick-me-up since you obviously don’t need it.”
Deflecting with humor, I try to step back, but his grip tightens, not letting me go.
His voice drops, low and certain. “Did you forget, Firefly?”
My breath catches.
“Hmm?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s going to say.
“You’re mine.” His voice is fierce and intimate and terrifying in the best way.
He said it last night and now here he’s doing it again. Liam trying to claim me when he’s done nothing but make me feel uncertain about what he wants.
“You don’t get to say that. Not after last year.” I swallow. “What happened last night doesn’t mean everything is forgotten.”
“I know.” He brushes his nose against my cheek. “And I hate what I did. Rejecting you like that—I’ve hated it every day since.”
“Then why did you do it?”
His forehead rests against mine, and for a second, he just breathes.
“Because I was scared. Because I didn’t want to lose Jasper, and I didn’t think I was worth the risk to you. But I was wrong.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“It’s only five stitches,” he says, his lips skimming the corner of my mouth. “But the second I hit the snow, all I could think about was you. Not my head. Not Jasper. You.”
