Hayden nodded purposefully. “Yes.”

“What’s he eating these days?”

“What’s he not eating?”

They worked for a while in the kitchen until Lucy gently suggested an exhausted-looking Hayden go lie down. To Lucy’s surprise, she hadn’t protested, sweeping from the kitchen without another word. Lucy wandered back out to the living room, muting the television before it drove her insane. The silence and lack of distraction were a bad idea, because she had more time to think about Matt. Earlier today, she’d realized her feelings for him ran deeper than she’d expected. She hadn’t known the half. Losing him before she had that chance to peel away his layers. Oh God, if something happened to him…

A car pulled up in the driveway. Before she even knew her feet were moving, Lucy had flung the door open. Brent. He stood in the driveway looking weary and covered in filth, two butterfly bandages over his right eye and a white wrap circling his left forearm. Relief poured over her head like a bucket of sand that his injuries weren’t worse.

He dragged a bag of gear from the back seat and shut the door. “Hey, Luce.”

She swallowed hard. “Something wrong with your phone?”

“Actually, yeah. It exploded.”

“Oh.” She sniffed. “I hate it when that happens.”

Brent smirked, but his expression turned serious. “Could have been a lot worse. If we’d been inside a few seconds longer, they’d be fitting me for size extra-large wings about now.” He rubbed his forehead. “Only a handful of men injured, none dead.”

The pressure returned to her chest. “How did you get out in time?”

He sighed. “Let’s just say Matt picked a good time to start speaking up.”

“So he’s…okay?”

“Yeah. He was in the stairwell at the time…the safest place he could have been. Lucky f**ker escaped with a couple of cuts.” Her brother glanced at her funny. Before he could say more, his eyes caught on something behind her. Or someone, rather. Lucy turned to find Hayden standing in the doorframe, wearing nothing but one of Brent’s king-size T-shirts that ended below her knees. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

“Duchess, what did we say about going pants-less in public?”

“I’m wearing shorts.”

“Now there’s a shame.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Brent dropped his bag on the driveway. “What?”

“I’m pregnant and you almost got blown up, you ass,” Hayden said shakily. “I’m never speaking to you again.”

He went toward her slowly, laying a reverent hand on her belly. “There could be a mini-duchess in here?” His exhale sounded shaky. “Holy shit.”

Lucy shifted beside them, feeling like an interloper. This was a private moment and she didn’t belong there. She was starting to wonder if she belonged anywhere. Quietly, she slipped into the house to retrieve her purse, intending to take the train back to Manhattan. As she turned to leave, Brent walked through the door, carrying Hayden in his arms.

“Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

“That’s your first question?”

“It got you talking to me, didn’t it?”

Hayden halted their progress by patting Brent on the shoulder. “Lucy, don’t go.”

“You heard the woman, I almost got blown up. That calls for a beer.” He drew Hayden a little closer. “Not for you. You get water.”

Lucy shook her head, suddenly choking with the need to get out of there. It didn’t matter that she loved her brother and suspected Hayden would eventually be one of her favorite people in the world, she didn’t want to be there. Seeing them so happily wrapped up in each other…it was somehow painful when it should fill her with joy. She knew the reason, too, making it even worse. She shouldn’t be craving the same thing with Matt. Not when he didn’t want it with her. But she couldn’t help wishing he would look at her the way Brent looked at Hayden. With so much love it could barely be contained.

“I have to go.” She forced a smile onto her face. “I’m really glad you didn’t explode.”

He didn’t laugh as she expected. Instead, both of them were watching her with concern. She couldn’t get to the door fast enough. No way would she spoil their moment with her own problems. With a wave, she slipped out of the house and into the evening.

The subway ride back to Manhattan seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, the car rattling around her, dim lights flickering occasionally. Feeling restless, she considered going somewhere to eat, but found herself walking to the town house at a brisk pace instead. When she reached the address and saw Matt sitting on the top step, waiting for her, she didn’t feel an ounce of surprise. Instead, she felt instantly calm. The edginess she’d had since leaving Queens subsided, like white noise being cut off.

It was strange, really. In the back of her head, she’d known he would be there. She didn’t have time to question why, though, because the intensity in his eyes drew her up the stairs. He stood slowly and she walked right into his open arms. How could it feel so right? She wanted to voice the question, but managed to keep it burning in her chest.

“I need you,” Matt whispered into her hair.

“Yes,” she answered in kind, knowing she was damning herself and unable to muster the will to deny him anything. Not when she needed him, too. She let them inside, glancing up at Matt questioningly when he took her hand. Expecting him to lead her to the bedroom for a replay of what they’d done earlier, she was surprised when he stopped her at the couch. Saying nothing, he lay down on his side and pulled her down next to him, enfolding her in his arms so tightly she couldn’t move. Long minutes passed as she waited for him to kiss her neck or touch her body. His deep, even breaths, however, told her he’d fallen asleep.

Heart in her throat, Lucy tucked her head under his chin and let exhaustion overtake her.

Chapter Sixteen

Matt woke from the deepest sleep in his memory when Lucy rose from the couch. He could tell from the way she tiptoed her way to the kitchen that she thought he wouldn’t notice her absence. Or miss her in his arms so much he had to fight the urge to go after her, bring her back to the couch so he could hold her some more. No, he couldn’t do that just yet. If he touched her now, she’d end up beneath him with her legs wrapped around his neck. This time, they were going to talk first if it killed him. And thanks to the hard-on he’d woken up with, it just might.

From the darkness of the living room, he watched her through the doorway that led to the lit-up kitchen, as she rummaged through the cupboards for something to eat. Lips pursed, one foot rubbed against the calf muscle of her opposite leg. Her curls were tangled around her neck from sleep. Curls he knew from experience smelled like watermelon. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to lose his hands in her hair, tilt her head back so he could run his lips up her neck. Jesus, his thoughts were doing nothing to ease the tension in his pants. Neither did watching the smooth lines of her throat work as she drained a glass of milk.

When she set the glass down, he could finally see her face. Every licentious thought in his head evaporated at the desolation behind her green eyes. The same one he’d put into them back at the parking garage. Matt rose from the couch and went to join her in the kitchen. She watched him approach warily, giving him a sharp pain in his stomach. He needed a minute to get his head together, so he opened the refrigerator and reached for the first thing he saw. A bowl of grapes. Talking, having an honest conversation, had never been his thing. Listening to people and reading them through their tone was his comfort zone.