“Oh, you’re at the right place,” he told her. “You’re the heartbreaker, right? Cristina.”
“Jason.” Dustin said this from his perch on the couch, his voice low and raspy and so familiar it nearly brought her to her knees. “Let her in.”
“She’s already in.” But Jason stood back and gave her room.
“My brother, Jason, the watchdog,” Dustin said. “Jason, this is Cristina.”
Cristina managed a small smile and then moved past Jason to stand in front of Dustin, so relieved to see him she could scarcely breathe. He looked like shit, like death warmed over really, but he was breathing, so that was good. Still, she wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let go. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“So we’re even.”
“I scared you? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Why are you here?” he asked instead of answering her.
She shoved her hands into her pockets. Probably she should have figured out exactly what to say to him. “Isn’t it customary to visit someone who’s been shot? Even idiots who check themselves out of hospital against doctors’ advice?”
His eyes gave nothing away behind his glasses. “So this is a friendly visit then? A how-are-you-doing visit? Well, I’m pissed off and in pain. There. Now you know. Thanks for coming.”
As if on cue, Jason opened the door in a not-so-subtle invitation for her to walk back out again.
“Wait.” She let out a breath and shoved her fingers in her hair. “Just wait a damn minute.”
Dustin waited with a patience that stretched hers thin for no reason that she could put her finger on. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so weird? We-we’re-”
Completely unhelpful, he lifted a brow.
“I mean, I thought we-”
He still just looked at her.
Goddammit.
“Okay, let me help you,” he said.
Well, finally!
“We’ve been friends,” he murmured. “Close friends.”
She’d never been good with the word close, but it was hard to dispute the truth. “Yes.”
“We’ve been sleeping together.”
She shot a quick glance at his brother. “Well, not regularly or anything. At least until this week,” she muttered.
Jason pursed his lips. “Sounds like you kids have some talking to do. I’ll be eavesdropping from the kitchen.”
He left, and a heavy silence filled the room.
“Here’s the thing,” Dustin said.
Good. The thing. She was so glad he was about to define the thing.
“I’m tired.”
“Well, of course you’re tired. You were shot!”
“No, I mean, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of the yo-yo. I’m tired of making all the moves.”
A burning panic began to rumble low in her belly. “What are you talking about?”
“If I don’t push you, then we stand still. But I’m tired of pressuring you into each and every single tiny step forward we take. It’s why I came to your place the other night to say goodbye. Which didn’t stick, obviously. So if you want to make the first move today, then make it already. If not, I’d like to be alone.”
Hurt, stunned and more hurt, she just stood there.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Sounding extremely tired, he lay back and closed his eyes. “Lock the door behind you.”
Well, wasn’t that subtle? She’d just lock the door then. Asshole. She let herself out and not only locked the damn door, but slammed it first.
And drove herself home to think.
And think some more.
And in the thinking, found her mad. How dare he go along with whatever the hell it was they’d been doing all this time, and then suddenly decide that wasn’t working for him?
It wasn’t like it was working for her, either. Not even close. She spent a very long night stewing, and when she woke up, she stormed back to his house.
Only to find it empty.
It was her day off, but she drove to the station and sought out Zach, who was doing pull-ups on a bar in the hallway, shirtless. Once upon a time she’d harbored a secret crush on Zach. They were friends, and twice they’d been friends with benefits, but it had been a long time ago, and, while he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met, he was a better friend than most.
Plus he’d found true love with Brooke, and been taken off the market.
But even before that, she’d fallen for Dustin. She hadn’t known back then the why or how of it, but Dustin had taken her off the market, too.
It was time he damn well knew it. “Where’s Dustin?”
“Gone.”
The same queasy panic she’d experienced yesterday flooded her again. “What do you mean, gone? Where does a guy who’s been shot go?”
Zach released the pole and hopped down. Letting out a long breath, he looked her in the eyes. “He’s at his mom’s house in San Luis Obispo.”
Which was an hour north of Santa Rey. “Why?”
“For Christmas.”
There was something funny to his tone. “He’s coming back though,” she said. “Right?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
Oh, God. She wasn’t going to like this. “Tell me what, Zach?”
“He gave his notice. He’s going full-time into the renovating business with his brother.”
Cristina chewed on that for a moment while a very bad feeling sank in her gut. “Okay, I’m going to need his mom’s address.”
Five minutes later she was on the highway heading toward San Luis Obispo. She didn’t want to think about why she was in such a hurry, or why the panic had grown and spread from her gut to every part of her body.
Dustin had quit.
He’d walked away.
And she’d let him.
10
CRISTINA GOT STUCK in holiday traffic, which only upped her blood pressure, but finally, she got there. Dustin’s mother lived in the middle of suburbia, complete with a white picket fence and a well-kept yard decorated for Christmas with lights strung in the trees and boughs of holly along the patio decking.
It was Christmas Eve.
It was Christmas Eve and she stood on the porch, hand raised to knock, about to completely impose on a family she’d never even met.
Because she had to see Dustin. She had to tell him-
Oh, God. She still didn’t have the exact words but she had the gist now. She was going to get it right this time.
Jason opened the door to her knock. Perfect.
In an exact imitation of his brother, he arched a brow and waited patiently.
“Um,” she said brilliantly.
“Still working on your greeting, huh? Need a moment?”
“No.” Yes. She stepped into the living room, filled with comfy, worn furniture and a huge Christmas tree, around which were so many presents they came halfway out into the room. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, amused. “We don’t get to see each other too much during the year so we tend to go a little overboard at Christmas.”
She had no understanding of this. Christmases in her world were a whole different ball game. “Oh. Uh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not. Everyone’s out doing their last-minute shopping. Probably be gone for hours. I was just leaving, too. Dustin’s upstairs.”
And with that, he walked out the front door. She stared at the tree, gulped and headed toward the stairs. “Dustin?”
He didn’t answer, and she began to make her way up, her heart in her throat. Upstairs in the hallway, all the doors were shut. “Dustin?”
She heard a soft oath, some rustling, and then one of the doors opened and Dustin stood there in a thick, dark blue robe, braced on a crutch, looking pale and tense.
And at just the sight of him, her heart warmed. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He was hurting like hell, she could tell, and without a word, she went to him, slipped her arms around him, and took him back to his bed.