Chapter 6

 

We lay there for a while, me absorbing everything, Nathan taking in my answer. I scratched at one of the scabs on my thigh and looked down. My legs were hairy and had bothered me all week. It shouldn’t have, but what else did I have to think about after I was done counting the dots on the ceiling? It hit me that I was home now; I could bathe.

“Nathan,” I began, breaking the silence. “I want a shower.”

I turned to look at him, and he nodded. “Okay.”

Climbing off the bed, he moved to my side and picked me up, carrying me into the adjoining bathroom. Once there, he sat me down on my good foot, careful not to bang my bad leg on anything before stripping me of my clothing.

“Hold on to my arms.”

It was then I got my first good look at myself in a mirror.

Just when my bruises had finally disappeared, I had a whole new horrifying set.

My face was just as bad off as I thought. Black and blue had turned to yellow and purple and covered the left side of my face from where I’d hit the glass window. Part of my hair not far above my ear was shaved off to get the area around the laceration on my scalp cleaned and stitched. My arms also held varying shades of bruise, darker around the countless number of stitches that held my skin together. Not too much longer until those came out.

My focus moved to the other figure in the mirror. Nathan was stripping, and my eyes went wide. I was about to ask him what he was doing when I recalled the state I was in; I wasn’t going to be able to shower on my own.

It was the first time I’d seen him without his clothes on in nearly a month, and I hated to think about how much I wanted him right then. It was like his body was calling to mine, and mine was desperate to answer, as always.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have felt that way with all that had happened, but I still felt the pull to him. I was such a mess, my mind and heart both having two different opinions; the push and pull was exhausting.

Once we were both naked, he helped me to sit on a stool that had been brought in. I didn’t ask because I noted a few new items around that, when I thought about it, were all to help me in some way.

He pulled some rubbery looking thing over from the counter and began stuffing my casted leg into it, being as careful as he could.

He looked up at me and smirked at my expression. “This will seal off your leg so no water gets into your cast. You really don’t want that. Trust me.”

“Oh. Okay.” I sounded stiff and off to my own ears, but I wasn’t sure how else to respond. I hadn’t even thought about something like that, and he had it ready to go whenever I was. He had planned everything out for my arrival home. I didn’t know how to react to something I wasn’t used to, but it did make my chest clench.

He moved to the shower and turned it on to warm it up. Tears prick at my eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, feel his lips on mine, and forget the last month had even happened so we could go back to how it used to be.

I was lying, and I knew it. I wanted to know everything he had told me, the honesty he displayed. The man in front of me was not the man I had known a month ago.

I took in a deep breath.

“Lila?” I looked up at him; a tear escaped and slid down my cheek. His face twisted in pain as he walked over to me. “Come on, the water will feel good.” He bent down and carried me into the shower.

I was grateful for the first time that my shower had a built in bench, because I was already exhausted from the previous ten minutes. He sat me down, the spray hitting me all over right away. It felt so good to have the water running over my skin. I felt cleaner already, just from the spray drenching me; it was the cleanest I’d felt all week.

Nathan grabbed the handle on the removable shower head and I placed my hand on his, directing where the spray would go. After a while I kept it over my head and let it fall down my body, my muscles relaxing; the tension rolling away with the water.

He soaped up a washcloth with my body wash, but before he connected with my skin I pulled it from his hand. He looked down at me, startled.

“It’s the only independence I have at the moment,” I said, explaining the need to do it myself.

He nodded in agreement. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

I scrubbed my body as clean as I could, making several passes. All the movement left me winded and he didn’t want to hand me my razor, but when I pleaded, he relented. I couldn’t stand being furry any longer.

I was drained by the time I was done, the most physical activity in over a week I had participated in. Nathan hung the shower head back up after wetting my hair again and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. He applied some to my hair and sat down next to me.

His fingers tangled in my hair, working up a good lather. My eyes closed, and I moaned a little; I always loved my hair being played with. He was careful on my stitches and avoided that area of my scalp as best he could.

The movement of his hands stopped, and my eyes opened again to find him pulling the shower head back down to where we were sitting and began rinsing the suds out.

I looked up to him and found him studying my face. One of his fingers reached up and lightly traced the outline of my fading bruises.

His eyes met mine, and in the depths I could see everything. His pain was on display full force after our conversation. Had my bruises brought his memories and fears to the forefront? Tears welled in his eyes before one spilled down his cheek. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on mine.

My hand reached up to comfort him; his stubble was coarse beneath my fingers. He clenched his jaw then dipped farther down.

For the first time in over three weeks, I felt his lips against mine. It was soft, yet hungry and full of a familiar fire.

Too much. The feeling was too much, and I had to pull away.

He nodded in understanding, but it didn’t keep the pain from showing.

A few minutes and a dose of conditioner later, we were done. I hadn’t felt so good or clean in over a week.

Nathan exited the shower and came back with a towel wrapped around his waist and one in his hand. He helped me stand and began drying me off a bit before carrying me back out to the stool in front of the mirror where he removed the blue rubber boot from around my cast.

Sure enough, the cast remained dry.

He finished drying me off and toweling my hair before taking me back into the bedroom and laying me down on the bed. He located a fresh set of sleep shorts and tank top and helped me into them.

His eyes lingered a bit on my skin, but that was all. The normal aggressive, sexual beast was kept away, and all that remained before me was a broken man.

He arranged the pillows to where I was comfortable again, then left to get me a fresh glass of water and my next dose of meds for which I was happy. I was getting accustomed to being in pain, but the medicine helped take the strong edge off and left a lingering dull ache.

I noticed every move he made, every conscious decision to make me more comfortable to sleep.

Such a simple act, but I could feel it.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and then the bed shifted with his weight. He was next to me.

“Are you okay? Do you need more medicine?” he asked, his fingers wiping away the salty droplet.

“I’m okay, just…rough day.”

He nodded in agreement. We laid there for a few more minutes, gazing at one another. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just new. Before, if we were in a bed together, we were tangled together, but now there was an invisible wall. A barrier that kept our bodies’ will at bay.

The effects of my medical cocktail began kicking in, and I let out a deep yawn.

“It’s getting late,” he noted, taking that as a cue. He stood and stretched, leaning down and kissing the top of my head. “Goodnight, Lila love.”

I stared at him as he turned and walked to the doorway; my chest constricted at the thought of him leaving.

“Wait!” I called out to his retreating form, my hand reaching out to him. I couldn’t stand to watch him walk away from me again. “Please,” I said in a whisper. “Don’t leave me.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned toward me, his expression a combination of hopeful and frightened at the same time.

“I’m just going next door, Honeybear, to sleep in your guest room. I’ll leave the door open so all you have to do is call for me, okay?”

Tears filled my eyes, my bottom lip quivering. I hurt, I was tired, and he was leaving.

Panic rose in his features at my distress. “Oh, no, please don’t cry. I’m right here, baby, I’m right here.” His hand reached out to stroke my hair.

I wasn’t ready to forgive him, and I wasn’t ready to let him back in, but I couldn’t stand to not be near him. The other room was too far away.

Why couldn’t the drugs take away the pain in my heart, as well?