There was heavily bruised skin under Ryan’s eyes. I was positive sleeping on his small sofa was uncomfortable. Add on the long hours he worked, he must have been exhausted.

He ate dinner quietly, deep in thought.

I wanted to ask him a thousand different things. I wanted to know how his day was—if anything exciting happened—if I missed anything interesting. I wanted to know about Harris, but I didn’t want him to think I still cared about the asshole. Ryan’s Sergeant called me on my job phone earlier today, asking if I needed anything, so I knew Ryan went to see him. Max Kannon didn’t get into any specifics, but he did tell me where to go and who to speak with if I was encountering any trouble.

All of it made me see Ryan Cage in a different light. The arrogant, loud-mouthed, jackass was a decent man. Someone good to have on your side or on patrol with. Someone who had your back.

Selfishly, I wished I had met him before I ever set on eyes on Harris. Now that Ryan knew all of my secrets, he saw me differently, and I wasn’t any good in his eyes. Lydia Martinez was a lucky girl. I hoped she knew that.

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch again tonight, Cage. You look like someone hit you with a truck,” I laughed, as I watched him finish the last bite of his meal.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Always the gentleman, I thought.

“Would you like more? I have a ton left,” I said, standing and reaching for his plate.

He blinked his eyes and cleared his throat. “No. Thank you, that was delicious.”

I felt my cheeks warming with his compliment and looked quickly away, embarrassed. He complimented my dinner; that was it. To him, I was still a stupid, desperate woman, who got herself jammed up at work by sleeping with the highest ranked dick in the building. God, I didn’t think I could feel any more awful about myself.

I walked swiftly to the sink and ran the water. For a moment, I hesitated and stared down at the dish in my hands, silently. I swallowed the giant lump that was lodged in the back of my throat—the one made of humiliation and regret—and began the tedious chore of washing and rinsing.

The warmth of his arm settled in beside me as he walked up next to me and reached for the rinsed dish and toweled it dry. “Do you usually blush when people thank you for dinner?”

“It was the compliment that got me,” I said, wiping my hands on the towel he’d just used. “I usually get complaints.”

He looked up suddenly, a strange emotion swirling in his eyes. It was probably just exhaustion. He hesitated, eyes lingering on mine, before stepping away and asking, “So, how was Cameron today?”

“Good,” I said, relieved to talk about something else. “We froze our bottoms off at the park. He’s obsessed with the swings. We hit the game section in Target. Then, we came home for lunch, and he spent about five hours putting together the puzzles I bought.”

“Really? Puzzles?” His expression was filed with awe.

“Yeah, then dinner, his nighttime routine, and now he’s out cold,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks heat under his stare.

“Thank you, Brooke.” He was still looking at me in that strange way.

I shook my head, exhaling heavily. “So, anyway, I am going to let you get to sleep,” I smiled, walking backward into the hallway. “In your own bed.”

His hand was instantly around my wrist, pulling me closer to him. My entire body hummed with nervous butterflies. I stopped short, and stumbled, terrified of what was going to happen, what was going to be said.

I pressed myself against the wall, and he leaned in next to me. His body was warm. I could feel the heat of him through my clothes. “Ryan?” I questioned.

“Do you still love him?” His voice was low, gentle.

“No,” I said in a rush, wondering where this could be leading. “No. I told you I was over him. I’m just completely and overwhelmingly ashamed.”

“I talked with Sergeant Kannon today. Asked him for some advice for you.”

I flattened my body closer against the wall, angling away from him. “Yeah, I figured. He reached out to me today and told me who to call and what to do.”

His fingers reached out and brushed the back of my hand, creating a ball of fire burning in my rib cage. “What are you going to do?”

I closed my eyes and thudded my head back against the wall. “I want to transfer and never show my face there again.” The words were whispers, full of despair.

He straightened, stepping closer to me. “Damn it, Brooke! Promise me you won’t be an askhole.” His nose flared, and his eyes narrowed.

“A what?” I said, matching his gaze.

“An askhole. Someone who asks for advice and then ignores it.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

He tugged me into the bathroom and shifted my body until I was standing in front of the mirror. His hand reached up and gently forced my chin up. “Look in that mirror, Brooke.”

An ache ripped through my chest. I didn’t want to look at myself.

“You can’t even look at yourself.” I felt his body step closer, felt his hand get tighter. “Look at that strong woman in the mirror. She doesn’t think she deserves to work where she does.”

I looked up and looked straight into my own eyes.

“You deserve so much more. Never let anyone in this world put you down. No one has the right to make you feel less than you are. Let no one change who you are.”

My breath pushed out in a low gasp. My eyes widened, and his fingers dug into my skin. “That strength you need? That strength you want? It’s in there,” he growled, pointing to my chest. “Find it, Brooke. Don’t let someone else break you. Stay and fight that asshole. I got your back.”

Then, his hands were off me, and the heat of his body was nothing but cold emptiness as he stormed out of the bathroom, leaving me breathless.