Sunlight streamed through the window, tapping my eyelids until I woke with a start. My temples were pounding, pulling at my forehead, aching behind my eyes. I grabbed at my head, pressing down, trying to ease the thrumming. Why did I drink so fast last night? It wasn’t even how much that mattered, it was the swiftness in which I gulped back whatever poison I’d found in Ryan’s cabinet after Cameron fell asleep. I wanted oblivion, I guessed, at least for a little while.

I stretched out, arms up, fingers touching the headboard. The bed was insanely comfortable, the sheets warm and heavenly. They smelled of Ryan’s cologne and whatever scent his soap was.

Shifting my body, slowly, there was a strange sensation of being underwater, my arms and legs heavy and anchored down. I tried to sit up, only to find a sharp electric charge of heat zap like static across my skin, making the small hairs on my arms bristle.

I slid my legs out only to hit something as warm and alive as me, tangled in the sheets next to me. I bolted up, startled, slapping a hand over my mouth.

Beside me, Ryan lay asleep, bundled up deep under the covers.

His thick arms and shoulders were bare; his skin a soft smooth bronze that was so alluring I wanted to slide my lips against it.

What fresh Hell is this?

Memories from the night before flooded my mind: me upchucking on his pants, him joking about it and pushing back my hair, and those perfect muscular arms carrying me into his bed. His voice deep and dark as he whispered, “It’s okay, Brooke. Don’t worry. You look good in my bed.”

I knew nothing happened between us. I was sick to my stomach last night from drinking too fast, not so drunk I couldn’t remember what I did with someone. God, that would have been mortifying, wouldn’t it? Drunk sleeping with the guy I was crushing on, totally wrecking any chance I had with him.

But, I didn’t have a real chance with him anyway, did I?

He had given up on pursuing me and was going to take Martinez out, wasn’t he? I squeezed my eyes shut and cursed myself six ways to Sunday. I really hoped she knew how lucky she was, and I hoped she was good enough for him, because he was pretty perfect.

His body was facing me, and even though every nerve in my body was screaming for me to run before he opened his eyes, my heart was begging me to stay and look. It would be the only opportunity I’d ever get to really see him, without his knowledge, without him seeing me stare awkwardly at him like a love struck teenager.

His lips were slightly parted, his features relaxed. Ryan was always so expressive when awake, making funny faces or smiling like an idiot. I’d never met someone who smiled as much as he did. On our job, that was unheard of, wasn’t it? He wasn’t a disgruntled detective like my brother. He was happy, a man who knew how to count his blessings, maybe. I didn’t know.

All I did know was that I couldn’t continue with the feelings I was starting to have for him—not when I knew there was no chance for me. It was all my doing, I knew. This was something I was going to have to learn from. I just didn’t know what or how to let go just yet. Us together, innocently in bed, I wanted the moment to last a lifetime. I was such a sappy romantic at heart.

I slipped out of bed quickly, silently, trying not to disturb him. It was a few minutes after seven. I would get Cameron ready for school and make breakfast to thank him for everything. But then, I had to leave. I would go back to my place and clean the disaster and take care of myself. Ryan had other things to do with his life and taking care of me shouldn’t be one of them. I wasn’t his to worry over.

I never would be.

Padding out into the kitchen, I found Cameron sitting at the table elbow deep in a box of Captain Crunch cereal, the other hand held a bottle of chocolate syrup. I couldn’t help but giggle at his breakfast choice as I set him up with a bowl and spoon. He rumbled loudly when I poured in the milk and spurted a few small lines of the syrup over the top.

I hit the bathroom as he ate, finding myself staring at my reflection in the mirror for far too long. It was the tremble of my chin that caught me, and maybe the pale skin and wide dinner-plate eyes.

Splashing icy water at my face didn’t help. Letting out a sob into a balled up towel didn’t help either. So, I stood straight and stared at the stranger in the mirror. What was I going to do when they suspended me? What was I if I wasn’t a cop? I didn’t know how to be anything else. I didn’t want to be anything else.

God, what were my parents going to say when they found out I screwed up my career the way I did? My heart ached so much it hollowed out my stomach.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Cameron was sitting with his coat and hat on, backpack hanging tightly at his back. He was rocking quickly, a few moments before a detonation of a complete meltdown.

“Okay, Cameron. I’m sorry. Let’s get you to school,” I stammered, rushing to get my arm through my coat sleeve and failing miserably.

He jumped off the couch and strode quickly to the door and down the steps. I was right behind him, hair matted and wild, coat dangling off one arm, and no shoes. I hoped it hadn’t snowed again, because my socks were way too thin for the cold.

An inhuman howl erupted out of my throat when my feet hit the outside ground. “Cameron, wait please,” I gritted out, tiptoeing quickly to the car door. The keys fumbled out of my hands twice, and I swore my toes caught instant frostbite and fell off. Cameron pulled and yanked at the door handle, his groaning and rumbling becoming more pronounced and high-pitched.

I clicked the unlock button, just before it was too late and watched him scramble into the car and buckle himself in.

With tears in my eyes, I ran around to the driver’s side and let myself in, instantly starting the car to let it warm up. Behind me, Cameron rocked in the backseat.

I patted down my coat, looking for my cell phone to keep him occupied to only realize all my pockets were empty. I didn’t even have any identification on me.

That’s when the tears I was trying to hold back tripped over my eyelashes and poured down my cheeks. I was messing up everything I touched in my life at an alarming rate. Way too fast to stop. I felt like I was holding on to the edge of my seat, on a wild rollercoaster with a busted safety belt.

In the backseat, Cameron rocked faster.

I looked down at the time on the dashboard. It was eight o’clock. His classes started at eight fifteen, his normal routine was getting to school by seven thirty. I screwed up by drinking and not hearing my cell phone alarm. God only knew where my cell phone was at that moment.

I pulled out quickly and drove like the devil himself was in the trunk. As soon as I was on the boulevard, Cameron seemed to calm down a smidge. I drove even faster, praying nobody pulled me over.

When I drove up to the school with one minute to spare he jumped out before I totally stopped, stumbled twice, straightened, and rushed inside.

Idling in the drop off lane, surrounded by all the other late hysterical parents, I sobbed.

It took me twenty-five minutes to drive back to Ryan’s at a normal, legal speed and a few more to drag my ice cold feet across the sidewalk and back up the stairs to his apartment.

Inside was warm and quiet; Ryan was still asleep.

Unzipping my coat, it melted off me and dropped to the floor. I stepped over it on burning painful toes and ran for the shower. I needed warmth poured all over my body. I would have preferred a creamy thick oatmeal bath, but I didn’t think Ryan would have any of that bottled up just laying around.

I walked through his apartment as if in slow motion, a heavy stupor fogging my thoughts. It wasn’t until I was standing in the shower—steam rising up around me—water practically scolding my skin—did I finally feel warm enough. Little by little, my muscles relaxed, and I resolved in myself what my next steps were. After I stumbled out, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror while raking a comb through the tangled knots of my hair, wondering what I could be if not a cop.

My reflection offered me no answers, so I tiptoed into the living room where I’d left my bag.

Rummaging through my clothes, I realized there was nothing clean left. I was so upset when I packed my bag I hadn’t thought about anything I really needed. It didn’t matter. After breakfast and a polite friendly thank you, I was heading back to my place to clean and be alone. Probably, pathetically forever, where I could sit and wonder what the hell I did to deserve this shitty crap that kept happening to me. Ryan would tell me it was my bad choices and lack of respect for myself, and the messed up part was that he’d be right.

Ryan would have been a good choice, not someone like Harris who called me hot and hid me for months. Jumping into a relationship with someone without even asking if they were married was not a good choice. It was a mistake I would never make again. And if I were really honest, I would probably say I knew something was wrong in my gut. I knew it wasn’t right—all the hiding and sex only on job time, but I chose to ignore my instincts. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. Ever.

Would I ever get my happy ending?

I’ve been watching everyone else have them. Where was mine?

Maybe a happy ending for me didn’t include a guy. Maybe it’s just me, strong enough to be on my own, picking up the shattered pieces of my heart and starting over, stronger and better than before. Maybe a happy ending is really just being happy with yourself, and living your life with your head held high.

Near the couch was Ryan’s laundry bag of clean clothes he never had the chance to put away yesterday. Probably because of my stupid drunk antics. I cringed thinking he actually cleaned up my vomit. I pulled out a shirt, one of Cameron’s small ones, and a pair of Ryan’s boxer briefs and slipped them on quickly. I looked like an idiot, but it beat standing in the middle of the living room butt-ass naked as the day I was born.

I opened the refrigerator, scanning the contents. There were eggs, milk, juice, bacon, cheeses, deli meats, two different kinds of bread, and fresh fruit. For a bachelor, he took really good care of himself. My kitchen was always empty—save for the half empty cartons of Chinese food you’d find in the back of the fridge, a ton of empty pizza boxes, and a few bottles of wine. I felt my lips twist into a frown. I wanted to adult like this, compare this place to mine, and I wasn’t adulting at all.

I was scrambling the eggs and pancake batter was bubbling on the stove, when Ryan stumbled out into the kitchen and burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked, dropping the spoon and folding my arms over my chest. “I had nothing clean, and Cam’s shirt is the first thing I grabbed. I didn’t want you coming out here with me just in a towel. Again.”

A ghost of a smile slipped over his lips. “You have pancake batter on your nose.”

“What? Oh, really?” I said, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at my nose.

“Forehead too,” he chuckled, with a smirk.

I let out a loud huff and swiped a towel across my forehead. He was right, of course, there was pancake batter all over my stupid face. I threw the towel down, furiously. “Stop looking at me and laughing, okay?” I turned around and flipped the pancake over with one of his spatulas and half missed the pan. The perfectly cooked pancake was wilting over the side of the frying pan, sizzling in the flames. “Son of a bitch!” I growled as hot pancake batter splashed up onto my face and neck.

“Brooke—”

I slammed the spatula against the counter. More batter flew through the air. Squeezing my fists tight, I spun around to face him. “I’m really, really very sorry about last night, Ryan.” His eyes squinted at me, lit with some stupid twinkle of laughter, and a loud snort escaped from the corner of his snarky mouth. I felt the flush of my cheeks and the sweat beading up across my forehead and just above my lip.

My chest caved, and I pulled at the collar of Cameron’s too tight shirt. I tightened my lips and straightened my spine, which only caused Ryan’s too big boxer briefs to slide a little over the curve of my hips. I yanked them up with a hand on each side until they stayed. “I can’t even begin to tell you how mortified I am about getting sick in front of you last night and having to have you take care of me. I…I…took Cameron to school, and I made breakfast to, you know, to thank you for everything you’ve done.” I scratched at my chin, which was becoming increasing hot, along with my face, neck, and ears.

“I think you are a very nice person, and really, I thank you for everything. And after I most likely burn the shit out of breakfast I will be out of your hair and back to taking care of myself. Just…from now on, I’ll do better.”

“Really?” he asked, with a glint in his eyes.

“You are infuriating,” I blurted.

“That’s a great compliment, thanks,” he said, taking a step forward and leaning against the counter.

Was that sarcasm?

I was so twisted around and confused, I didn’t even understand why I was getting so flustered. It was just…well, the minute his eyes were on me, I was so embarrassed and so, God, I wanted a do-over. I wanted to go back to him kissing me that night and for me to not push him away.

Too late, right?

My heart dropped to my stomach, and I looked away. “I feel like a fool.” The words slipped out before I could think them through.

“I can’t get you out of my head, either, Brooke.”

Every inch of my skin tingled and buzzed with each word he’d said. I had to blink my eyes a few times to focus. “What?” I whispered.

“You are stunning, standing here in my brother’s shirt and my underwear. Absolutely, undeniably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I can’t, God knows I’ve wanted to, but I can’t stop thinking about how much I want you.”

“Want me?” I asked, curious about the words, thinking I was hearing him wrong.

He slipped in front of me, reached behind me, and shut off the burners to the stove. He stayed there, leaning over me, not quite touching me, but close enough that the heat of his body mixed with the heat of mine.

I couldn’t think straight. I knew there were a thousand questions I needed to ask. There should be a thousand questions, yet my tongue stayed silent.

His body shifted slightly, his hand brushing over the back of one of mine.

“Come back to bed,” his whispered words fell softly against my neck.

“Are you married?” my voice croaked, holding my ground, but gently swaying toward him.

“Nope,” he smiled, licking his lips. “Very single.”

“Dating someone?” my voice cracked, as my hands fisted at my sides.

“No.” His hands gradually reached up, his fingertips falling gently on my waist.

“Martinez?” That’s right! He was going to go on a date with Lydia. I wasn’t going to deal with someone who—

“I cancelled it,” he shrugged, pressing his fingers into my skin and pulling me up against him. “There’s only one woman I want, Brooke, and it’s you.”

I had somehow lost my knees.

I barely knew where my body was, then his arms were around me, like silk against my skin. Suddenly, he was carrying me through the hallway, back toward his bedroom.

He had left music playing inside his room, a slow song that I lost myself in—in the rhythm of the sounds, and him—in the way he looked at me. He set me down gradually; our eyes locked together, our breaths just falling over the edge of steady.

He tugged on the hem of the shirt I wore, lifting the fabric inch by inch, taking his time unwrapping me. Cool arms seemed to press against my skin, my breasts swollen and heavy, hardened into peaks. His gaze crawled over my flesh, as he sank to his knees in front of me and slid down the boxers until they pooled around my ankles.

I’d never been so intensely aware of my skin than when his eyes took me in completely bare for the first time. A slow smile spread across his lips as he placed his hands around the back of my calves and haltingly slipped them softly up to the back of my thighs. I could feel my own heartbeat, strong and fast in my throat, my legs tingling and numbing from wanting him to touch me more.

Then, his fingers splayed wide, pressing into my skin and his mouth was on me instantly. His lips latched on to me, his tongue flicked out over and over and my body gave in to his mouth and I came, and I came, and I was still throbbing when he pressed me back onto his mattress and sank inside me like he was always meant to be there.

Our hands were frantic, his trusts strong and hard, our lips aching and pulling, at each other’s. His mouth moved over my neck, his teeth raking into my skin, and I wrapped my legs around him tighter, my body, my mind, my entire heart falling off the ledge. Every muscle in my body trembled and convulsed as I exploded around him, pieces of me lost forever in his room. His body stiffened and his trusts became harder and faster, both of us moaning with the sudden build up until he whispered my name on a harsh moan and something in me, maybe my heart, burst open in my chest, and I came again.

Breathless, he rolled off me, both of us panting and swearing under our breaths.

For a moment, he lay silent, staring up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see any regret cross his face. Ryan held the same expression as Harris did the first time he had me please him in his office. A heavy sigh from a downturned mouth. A pained expression as his eyebrows gathered in. I wondered if Harris had thought about his wife at that moment, the vows they’d took, and how ugly of a person he really was inside. I wondered what Ryan’s regrets were. Whatever they were, I wouldn’t allow him to have them long. I slipped from under the sheets, feigning the need to use the bathroom. I couldn’t let him think I was a clinger, but God, please don’t let him regret me. That was the single most intense experience I’ve ever felt in my life.

I closed myself in the bathroom and leaned heavily on the sink. My insides felt like molten hot lava and as if my outsides were made of electric fire.

I never wanted this feeling to go away.

Shit, this was my problem, wasn’t it?

One time with someone and I fell head over heels in love with him.

I was a stupid, living, breathing cliché.

Balling up the towel that hung on the rack in his bathroom, I pressed it against my lips and sobbed into it, hoping to mute the sounds. I just did exactly what I had done with Harris—jumped into bed with him, without thinking about any of the consequences.