She got that. Steven was still a mess, and he’d been home a lot longer than Holt. He hadn’t been injured as badly as him, either. If Holt didn’t think he was stable enough to be with her, even temporarily, then she wouldn’t push him.
Swallowing hard, she nodded once. “Okay. Apology accepted.”
He took his hands out and rubbed his jaw. “I like you, Lydia. I know we met and jumped right into bed, and then there was last night…”
“Yeah, there was last night.” She tightened her fingers on the stems, knowing what was coming next. She might as well beat him to the punch, and say it first. “You want to forget that ever happened, and be friends? Platonic friends.”
He nodded. “Yes, exactly. Well, not forget, necessarily. But not do it again.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Her heart twisted. “It was just a one-night stand. No reason to dwell on it. Right?”
Something flashed across his face for an instant, but then it was gone. “Right. We can’t do it again, but that doesn’t mean I regret you, or what we did. Or that I don’t want to see you again. I’ve never really been friends with girls, but I want to be yours.”
“I see.” She gave him a tight smile. “All right, then.”
“Good.” He stared at her some more before clearing his throat. “The wounds on my chest? They came from war. I was injured in battle, right before I came home.”
She blinked at him. She’d asked him about them the night they’d first met, and he’d blown her off. She knew telling her now was a way of showing her he was serious. That he wanted them to share. That he actually wanted to be friends. “I’m so sorry for that.”
He nodded. “We’re good?”
“We’re good,” she said softly.
He glanced over his shoulder, tugging on the hair at the back of his head. “All right. I better go to work, then.”
“Yeah, or you’ll be late.” She forced a smile and stepped back into her apartment, the flowers still in her hands. “Thanks for stopping by, and for the flowers.”
“Anytime.”
He stared at her for another second, his silence saying so much and yet not enough, then turned and left. She watched him go, her heart pumping loudly.
He’d brought her flowers. So they could be friends.
Unfortunately for him, that only made her want him more.
Sighing, she closed her door and walked into her apartment, the flowers pressed to her nose as she inhaled their scent. Another knock sounded, and she started for the door. Without looking through the peephole, she set the bouquet down and opened the door. “Did you forget—?”
She broke off, because it wasn’t Holt. It was Sam, her cheating ex. “Hey, babe.”
“Uh…hi.” She tightened her grip on the doorknob. “What are you doing here?”
“I forgot some things and wanted to grab them.”
“Okay…” She stepped back and let him inside. “What did you forget?”
“You.”
She blinked. “What do—?”
“I’m sorry. I never should have slept with Joan.”
“Yeah, well, you did.” She stepped aside, motioning out to the hallway. “Now get out before I—”
“I miss you, babe.”
He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her into his arms. She barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth was on hers. Unlike last night, when Holt had done the same thing, her reaction was nonexistent—unless you counted repulsion. Slipping her hands in between them, she shoved him back, but he didn’t budge. Twisting, she managed to free her mouth from his. “Sam, stop it.”
“Why?” He backed her against the wall, not letting go. He crushed her between the wall and his chest, and instead of fearing him, she wanted to scratch his eyes out. “I saw that asshole leave your building just now. And then I figured out why we didn’t work. I wasn’t enough of a jerk for you. I didn’t press you for sex, or anything.”
She shoved at his shoulders again. “Neither did he, dumbass. I just gave it to him willingly.”
“Well, now you can give it to me, too,” he said angrily.
Her stomach turned. “Over my dead body.”
“So melodramatic.” He laughed cruelly. “Then again, you always were. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. But before I go, let me show you how a real man—”
One second he was there. The next, he was gone. She blinked and then tugged her shirt down. It had ridden up in her struggle. But who had—?
Holt slammed Sam against the door, his face red. Sam held his hands up, looking like the scared little boy he was. “Look, man, I wasn’t—”