One Night with a Hero by Laura Kaye Page B

away. “You didn’t. I offered.”
    They sat in silence for a few moments. “Can I ask you a question?” he finally asked.
    Joss braced her hands back against the bed. “Sure.”
    “What’s your real name?”
    Wasn’t expecting that. She sighed. It probably wasn’t easy for a guy like him to appear weak in front of someone else, especially a lover. Former lover. Whatever. So Joss decided to lay herself a little bare, too. Not her usual MO, but then none of this was, was it? “It’s Jocelyn.”
    He took another spoonful of broth, mostly avoiding the noodles, carrots, and chunks of chicken. “And why were you uncomfortable telling me that before?”
    She glanced down at her lap and released a long breath. “Because, to keep you from using it, I would’ve had to tell you I don’t like the name. And to explain why, I would’ve had to tell you how the staff at the children’s home where I grew up insisted on calling me that despite me repeatedly stating my preference for the nickname, which is one of the few things I can definitively remember of my mother—that she called me Joss.” She lifted her gaze to Brady. “She died when I was six. And we didn’t have any other family.”
    He sat very still, soup forgotten in his lap, looking at her. “Were you safe there?”
    “There? Yes. The staff wasn’t warm, but they weren’t mean, either.”
    He frowned, went to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. His jaw ticked. “You answered that like there was a place where you weren’t safe.”
    She released a long breath. “I had two foster families, when I was younger. The first only lasted six months when the woman got pregnant with twins, and they felt they couldn’t keep me. The second lasted a year. It…wasn’t a great situation.”
    Brady frowned and set his bowl on the tray. His hands drew into fists alongside him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    She nodded and yawned again. Between spending her day sitting on the step and baring her childhood experiences—something about which she never enjoyed talking, mostly because it seemed to make other people uncomfortable to hear it—she was suddenly feeling the weight of the day.
    The mattress shifted and Joss startled when Brady’s thumb caressed her cheek. “You look like you’re going to drop. You should go get some rest now. I’m worried you’re going to get this…whatever it is.”
    “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
    “Yeah. Just tired and achy. But better.”
    She pushed off the bed. “Let me at least get you some supplies for the night.” Tray in hand, she returned to the kitchen, gathered fresh drinks, and laid everything out on his makeshift cardboard nightstand. “If you get bad during the night again, just knock on the wall. I’ll hear you.”
    He managed a small smile. “Okay.”
    She stepped to the door. “I’ll turn off all the lights downstairs and lock up. Feel better, Brady.”
    “Hey, Joss?”
    “Yeah?” She met his gaze.
    He shook his head. “Just…good night.”
    It was almost certainly not what he’d intended to say, but she gave him a smile. “Good night, sailor boy.” She jogged down the steps.
    “Kicking a man when he’s down. That’s harsh, woman. Harsh.”
    She chuckled to herself, made a pass through the first floor, and double-checked that the front door was locked behind her.
    It was only nine forty, but she was beat. She trudged right upstairs, got ready for bed, and slipped under the covers. Mid-reach for the lamp, she paused and glanced at the wall.
    She knocked on it, twice.
    Knock, knock , sounded back.
    Joss smiled, but just as fast the expression slipped from her face. She clicked off the light and settled into her pillow. A tear pooled at the corner of her eye and dampened the cotton.
    She liked Brady. Really liked him. Her breath caught and she held it to keep the emotion from flowing that suddenly pressed outward from her chest. She liked him too much, given how few days she’d