13.

Cody wet his lips as he took in Joanna's bedraggled appearance. He opened his mouth to say something but remained silent when he saw the tear trickle down her cheek. At a loss, he pushed his hands into his pockets before he was tempted to reach for her. She had nearly bowled him over when she'd opened the door. And when she'd pressed her face to his chest, had wrapped her arms around him... He took a deep breath and fought the urge to pull her into his arms again.

"Not the one you were hoping for, I guess," he murmured. Her sniffle was like a knife in the chest and he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. "I just wanted... Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," she whispered. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffled again.

His gaze moved behind her. He furrowed his brow in confusion when he saw the towels on the floor and nightstand. The scattered petals on the carpet. Light caught shards of glass on the comforter and he bit his lip. "Joanna..." he trailed warily.

"Did you need something?" she asked softly.

"I just wanted to see if you got the—"

"I did." She bunched the hem of her t-shirt in one hand, pressing it into the opposite palm.

"Yeah, I can tell. What happened?"

"I'd rather not get into this right now, Cody." She released the shirt and Cody felt a surge of worry when he saw the hint of blood on the cotton fabric.

"Did he hurt you?" he accused. Despite his assurance that he wouldn't, he reached for her.

"Did he—No, of course not. I cut my hand while cleaning up the mess." She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Look, Cody... Thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful. And yes, I remember when your dad sent me a bunch of them on my birthday."

"Joanna, something happened." He stepped through the doorway and gently brushed away another stray tear. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what."

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpet, mate," Stu observed. Leaning casually against the pillows at the head of the bed, he watched his friend pace back and forth, blocking his view of the TV. Not that he cared a bit about the insipid crime drama was on. He didn't care about the state of the carpet, either. When Stephen cast him a glare, he shrugged and slid off the bed. "Right. Tell me what happened."

With a long-suffering sigh, Stephen told him. Stu winced over some of the details as he dug the bottle of whiskey out of his suitcase. The hotel lacked decent glassware, but he made do with two plastic cups from the bathroom. When his friend had finished the tale, he handed over a double shot of whiskey and downed his own.

Stephen barely sipped his, then let it hang loosely in his hand. "Ah wanted to stay. To talk it over. And Ah would've but she made me leave. 'Ah don't want to hear anything yeh have to say right now.' That's what she told me."

"Well you did fling a vase at her," Stu pointed out.

The Irishman grunted as he tossed back the rest of his whiskey. "Ah didn't throw it at her. Ah just... Ah was pissed."

"Because her ex-boyfriend sent her flowers? Which could very well mean what she said." Stu held up one hand in defense. "Don't throw that temper at me."

"Ah fucked it all up. Everything. Ah lost my temper, and it scared her." He crumpled the empty cup and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Yeh should've seen her face. Ah've never seen her look like that. Like Ah..."

Stu sighed when the other man moved to stand at the window. "Go back and talk to her," he suggested. "You've both had time to cool down. And I know her well enough to know she's not going to come after you. She has a little too much pride to do that."

"And Ah don't?" Stephen raked a hand through his hair.

"You're the one who lost your temper, mate. You're the one at fault here." He tossed his empty cup into the wastebasket. "You said it yourself."

"She doesn't want to see me."

Stu groaned. "Standing there looking at the alley won't fix things. What happened to not giving her up? She was worth fighting for when she was his. Shouldn't she be worth it even more now that she's with you?"

It had taken some doing, but she'd finally gotten rid of Cody. He had refused to believe that nothing major had occurred. At a loss, she had given him a toned-down version of events before requesting that he leave. He'd hesitated, told her to call him if she needed anything, and had finally, at long last, left.

Now standing out in the hallway, she looked at the closed door of Stu's room. Anxiety clawed at her stomach but she refused to turn away. The niggling voice in the back of her mind refused to let her argue with it, reminding her that she was just as much at fault as Stephen. If not more so.

All she needed was the nerve to knock on the door.

It took her several moments. Twice she almost turned to go back to their room. To hide and wait. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand to knock.

The door opened before her fist made contact with the wood and she had to catch herself before sending it into Stephen's chest. Her breath hitched in her throat when he froze in the doorway, the look in his eyes causing a pang in her chest. She was vaguely aware of the droning of a TV.

They stepped forward at the same time, her face crashing against his chest. His arms wound around her, pulling her close, and she released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Maybe they were moving too fast. Maybe she should have taken a step back after breaking things off with Cody. At the moment, she didn't know. The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn't risk letting him slip away. Not when his arms felt so perfect around her. Not when, with just the whisper of her name, he eased the ache in her heart.

His fingers curled into her shirt. As though afraid she would pull away. The gesture only made her press closer to him. Raising her head, she brushed her lips over his chin. "Ah'm not leaving yeh again," he whispered. "Even if yeh tell me to. Yeh'll have to pick me up and throw me out, love."

She smiled through her tears as his lips found hers in a tender kiss. Her hands traveled up to rest on his shoulders, then further upward to frame his face. "I love you," she whispered when his lips moved to her cheek. "Only you. Cody... What I had with him—"

"It's not important right now, love," he murmured.

"It is," she insisted gently. "I want you to get this in your head and get it straight. What I had with Cody can never compare to what we have. And I need you to know that I could never go back to him. It's you I want, you stubborn Irish bastard. It's always been you."

"Ah'm sorry, Joanna," he whispered thickly. She realized he was near tears and nodded.

"I am too," she promised. She pressed her face to his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Perfectly content to stay just as they were, she held onto him. Until a sardonic voice interrupted their moment.

"Well now. Touching as this is, would you two mind taking it elsewhere so I can get some rest?"

A/N: Yes, I know, this is a short chapter. Probably the shortest I've written in a while. I've suffered from writer's block this past week and almost got to the point of putting this story aside until I could get some inspiration. But I stuck with it. A HUGE thank you to Malabrigo for her encouragement and open ear while I whined. Also a big thank you to Amber for always understanding what I want to say even when I can't find the words.

Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! You're all so amazing. Love you!