Page 36 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

She came to sit beside me on the bed. Close, but not too close, the shoulder strap of my tank top dipping enough for me to see her bra situation. She had on that same strapless one as she’d had on the night before—of course, because she had nothing else with her—and the tops of her full breasts made my throat ache.

As well as other parts of me.

All of a sudden, I didn’t care that she was younger than me, or that she’d practically been as much of a sister to me as my own growing up. Nor did I want to picture her clutching Kerry’s lifeless body and crying, begging me to help her.

“It was a mistake. An accident. It can’t end this way.”

Right now, it was the good times I wanted to remember. The way Daisy always laughed with her whole body. How she’d asked me to teach her the bass, and we went out on the roof to practice until Kerry awakened from a nap and found us. The time she’d made me a triple decker sandwich using an entire package of cheese.

Silly, happy things. Back when we’d been too young to realize what lay ahead. Even I had been young then, though I’d felt beyond jaded.

I hadn’t had a damn clue.

Now I just wanted to stop looking back, at least as a reason to get lost in a bottle. Besides, Daisy was part of our world now. She worked on the tour, and she was doing a damn good job. She’d probably be around for a while.

Fuck, it scared me how much I hoped she would be.

I didn’t want to expend more energy blaming her for stuff that wasn’t her load to carry. Even if it was mine.

“I pretty much stopped partying after she died. Drugs, I definitely stopped.” She let out a little laugh. “I actually swung the other way. I kind of turned into a germaphobe. So much for passing around cups or joints at parties.”

“No way.”

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“Yeah. I sprayed hand sanitizer on your steering wheel.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m amazed you didn’t smell it when you got in.”

I frowned and leaned closer to her. She didn’t smell like maple any longer. Now she smelled like the outdoors, just like the shampoo and body wash in my bathroom. Her hair was still wet, and the few strands that had escaped from her messy knot were curling at the ends.

Christ, she was a damn picture. All big blue eyes and temptation.

“Is it maple?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Your hand sanitizer.”

“No, it’s pumpkin pie scented.” She blushed. “I stocked up last fall.”

Not laughing simply wasn’t possible.

Best of all, she joined in. Then she lifted her hand to my cheek, stroking the stubble quickly turning into a beard. I hadn’t shaved for a bit, and clearly, I needed to.

“I like it,” she said quietly, as if she could hear my thoughts. “Wild man Oz. Goes with the long hair.” She reached behind my head to tug on my ponytail, her wince telling me her arm still hurt.

Carefully, I took hold of her arm and lifted it to my mouth so I could press a kiss to her bandage. “I’m sorry. I should have been here, not run off like a coward.”

It was a bad habit of mine. One I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to break.

“You’re not a coward. You fought a guy with a knife without a weapon other than your wit and your fists.”

“He hurt you. I wanted to kill him.”

She eased her arm away from me. “See, you’re a defender. You want to protect. That’s who you are.”

“No, it’s because it was you. Just you.”

She lowered her head. “You feel responsible.”

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