Hotshot (The Bennett Brothers 1)

“Bizzy, I can’t even imagine what’s going through your head. We all love you. Talk to me, talk to Nick, and I beg you, talk to Shaw.” Mathis speaks in his soothing d

octor voice.

Usually, I love this voice, but using it on me seems condescending. Instead of lashing out, I take a few deep breaths, reminding myself this isn’t his fault.

“I’ll call him when I can hold a conversation without breaking down. It’s going to take time.”

“I understand, and I promise to try and stay neutral, but you need to know, he didn’t want this. Sasha means nothing to him. Without sounding crass, he has to live the rest of his life with this mistake.”

“The baby really is his, isn’t it?” Saying it out loud sears my throat.

“He believes so, and he’s trying to do the right thing here. Demanding the paternity test was the first of many steps. After you ran out on Friday night, he explained everything. I know you’re hurting, but he’s killing himself over this.”

“I’ll be fine after a few days. The shock is wearing off. It’s probably time I go home, get some sleep, sort my head, and come up with what I want to say.”

They share a look, and I get an uncomfortable vibe. “What?”

“Shaw went to your house on Friday night. He’s sworn to stay until you come home and talk to him. The only time he left was to come up here during your shift.”

“He’s been here?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the main waiting room, hoping you’d call. He wanted to be close.”

My heart and stomach both twist at the thought of him sleeping in the uncomfortable chairs. Instead of responding, I turn on my phone and watch the notifications pop up. So many voicemails, text messages, and emails I don’t dare try to go through them yet.

Exhaustion finally sinks in, and I feel the effects of spending the last thirty-eight hours here.

“I’m going home,” I announce, getting up.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Claire eyes me worriedly.

“No, I’m going to sleep. Really sleep. I’m going to clear my head and think rationally. My heart has had enough time to control my emotions. It’s time my brain kicks in.”

“Call me later, okay? I’ll worry about you.”

“Me too.” Mathis stands and leans in to hug me, kissing my cheek. “Give him a chance to explain.”

I muster a little nod and head to the nurse’s lounge to get my stuff. It’s then I realize I don’t have a car. Instead of bothering Claire, I order an Uber and rush downstairs. Once I’m in the car, I send her a text, knowing she’s going to kill me. That’s the least of my worries right now.

I almost tell the driver to keep driving when we pull up to my apartment and Shaw’s Jaguar is parked in his usual spot. But instead, I brace myself to see him.

My traitorous heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s so close. Even devastated, I long to feel his arms around me, soothing me, and saying everything is going to be all right. There’s a reason he’s always been the one I run to when something bad happens at work. He knows exactly how to handle my fragile emotional state.

I walk in and am immediately assaulted with the smell of him everywhere. The spicy scent of his cologne and clean fresh fragrance of his soap fill the air. I inhale deep, a small bit of relaxation calming me.

“Thank God you’re okay.” His voice is rough and ragged as he turns from the front window.

I swallow a gasp as I take in his appearance. His hair is practically standing straight from running his hands through it, his usually bright and gorgeous hazel eyes are dull, framed by black circles, and his neatly trimmed beard is overgrown.

Even so, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, stalking to me and lifting me in his arms, enveloping me in his warmth. The familiarity sends a spark through me, and on impulse, I drop my bag and wrap my arms around him.

A loud sob escapes from deep in my chest, and I fight the avalanche of emotions about to explode. The next few seconds flash by in a blur, and I find myself on his lap on the sofa. My braid is now gone as he massages my scalp and threads his fingers through my hair, soothing me as only he knows how.

Part of me knows I need to move away, force myself out of the comfort of his arms, and ask him to leave.

Pathetically, I can’t.