Then Reese was in the doorway, and he let out a long breath of air. “I feel like I fucked up earlier.”

I shook my head, as he came into the room, but I didn’t need to worry about moving. He came over and deposited me on his lap, sitting on the floor.

He tugged the wine bottle out of my hand, taking a drink and handing it back.

I took it back. “I messed up. I got emotional.”

“Seems like you have a right.” He brushed my hair back, resting his head against the mattress. “I don’t think any of us can imagine what you’re going through.”

“You can.”

He shook his head, pursing his lips together. “Not even a little bit. My brother’s an asshole to the umpteenth degree. He’s in jail right now, and he’s mad he can’t get anyone to post his bail. He’s pissed that I won’t take his calls and my lawyers are fielding everything from him. Now, if my mom decides to use her money to post for him, that’s on her. All I can do is protect myself against them. That’s not the same situation as yours at all.”

But he was wrong. For both of us, there was a hole where our family was supposed to be. Damian had created mine. His brother had created his.

I settled back against him. “Loved ones aren’t supposed to go away, whether it’s their choice or not. That’s not how life is supposed to be.”

He ran a hand down from my face, cupping my cheek before falling away. “You’re not close to your family?”

“It’s not that there’s anything really wrong with them. It’s just… They couldn’t support me while I was losing Damian, and that put a wedge between us. I don’t know how to make that right, especially when they won’t acknowledge it.”

“They know you guys broke up, right?”

“No. I had no reason to tell them.”

He cursed softly, hugging me close. “You shouldn’t go through that alone.”

I tipped my head back. “But I’m not. Not anymore.”

A look flashed in his depths.

Raw. Tender. It was the way he’d looked at me last time when we were having sex, and I turned away from it. I wasn’t ready to see it. After a moment I shifted up, raising my hand to his face. My thumb grazed his chiseled jawline, the dip around his mouth, the rough stubble that told me he’d shaved last night, and then finally, I traced his lips. His breathing grew shallow, and his hand moved more insistently behind me, molding over my hip.

He turned me to face him more directly, sliding his hand under my leg.

My breasts pressed against his chest, our foreheads resting together.