Cristina glared at him, then at the others. “And what are you all looking at?”

In unison, eyes swiveled away from the train wreck waiting to happen, to the other train wreck that had already happened.

Brooke, in Zach’s arms.

In his bed.

Surrounded by goggling eyes.

“Get out,” Zach said to them all. “And Aidan, I want my key back.”

“You gave it to me for emergencies.”

“Is there an emergency?”

“Well, I thought junk food and porn constituted one, but I can see I was mistaken.”

“Brooke’s hair is down,” Sam noted. “That’s new.”

“Out.” Zach pointed at the bedroom door with his injured arm. “Now.”

When they’d filed out, Brooke covered her face. “This is bad. I fell asleep—”

“It’s okay.”

“They thought it was funny!”

“It is funny,” he said. “A little.”

Slipping out of the bed, she hurriedly reached for her clothes. Hearing the guys in the kitchen, digging into the food, she felt naked.

Very, very naked. “I’ve got to go.”

“At least stay and eat.”

She couldn’t stay. Not right now. Not when she’d just realized that in her heart, she was like Dustin, and not cut out for this lightweight sex thing. In spite of herself and her promise on that night on that rock, her damn heart had opened to Zach.

How stupid was that? She’d fallen all the way, leaving herself vulnerable to pain. And there would be pain. She was okay with that, but she needed a moment, a few moments, before she could smile and mean it.

“Hey. Hey,” he said when she turned away, snagging her hand, pulling her back. “Brooke? What is it?” The bruise on his jaw had darkened, the white bandage wrapped around his left shoulder stark against his tanned skin. He had bed-head again, and tired eyes that said he was hurting like hell.

He didn’t need this, the burden of her feelings. “I need to go home for clothes before work,” she said, faking a smile. “That’s all.”

He was quiet while she pulled on her shirt, so quiet that she finally glanced over to find him looking at her. And in his eyes was a wariness because he felt things for her, too, she knew he did, feelings he kept inside because he didn’t intend to let them go anywhere—but what was worse was the comprehension she found there.

Oh, God. Despite her best effort, he could see what she was feeling. “Yeah, I really, really have to go.”

With a wince, he sat up in bed. “Brooke—”

“No.” She shook her head. “Please don’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

Oh, God. “Don’t be silly. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”