CHAPTER 4
ZANE
It’s been Two hours. Two. Whole. Hours.
How long does it take someone to shower? I’m no expert on women, but twenty minutes feels excessive. And Mia… well, she doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of girl who’s obsessively lathering conditioner or contemplating the mysteries of the universe under the hot water.
Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s just enjoying a moment to herself. After all, it’s probably her first hot shower in a while, considering she’s been stuck in a hospital for God knows how long. But now… now, I’m starting to worry. What if she slipped and hit her head? Or, worse, what if she managed to drown somehow? Is that even possible in a shower?
I knock on the bathroom door, trying not to sound too impatient. “Mia? You good in there?”
Silence.
A sinking feeling churns in my gut. She’s dead.
She’s definitely dead.
I knock again, harder this time. “Mia? Say something.”
Still nothing.
“Alright, I’m coming in!” I warn, though I half-expect her to scream at me for invading her privacy. When no such scream comes, I take it as permission and push the door open.
The bathroom is humid, the mirror fogged up, and there, standing in the middle of the tiled floor, is Mia.. Still covered in blood and the towel. And staring at the shower like it’s some alien contraption sent to earth to confuse her.
“What… are you doing?” I ask, blinking at her.
She glances at me, tilting her head like I’m the one acting weird. “Waiting.”
“For what?” I gesture at the still-dry shower. “For the water to apologize to you before you get in?”
“No,” she replies simply, then shrugs. “I don’t know how it works.”
I stare at her, waiting for her to crack a smile or laugh or show some sign that she’s messing with me. But no, Mia is dead serious.
“You… don’t know how to shower?” I ask, my voice flat with disbelief.
She frowns slightly, crossing her arms. “I’ve never had to do it myself before. There was always someone to do it for me while I was unconscious.”
Oh. Right.
Fuck.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll… I’ll teach you.”
Her eyes light up “Really? You’ll help me?”
“Yeah, but here’s the deal,” I say, holding up a finger. “I’m not looking at you. At all. I’ll turn my back, you’ll listen to what I say, and we’ll get through this without it being weird. Got it?”
She nods enthusiastically, like this is the best idea she’s ever heard.
I sigh, muttering to myself about how this is my life now, and turn my back to her. “Alright, first thing’s first. Take off the towel.”
There’s a rustling sound behind me, and my entire body tenses. Don’t think about it, Zane. Don’t even picture it.
“It’s off,” she announces cheerfully.
“Great. Now, step into the shower.”
A pause. “How?”
I turn my head slightly, just enough to glance at the shower controls. “Okay, see that lever thing? Pull it up.”
More silence.
“Mia, it’s right in front of you,” I say, trying not to sound exasperated.
“Ohhh,” she says, and there’s the sound of the lever creaking as she figures it out. Water bursts from the showerhead, and she squeals in surprise. “It’s hot!”
“Yes, that’s kind of the point,” I say, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see me. “You can adjust the temperature. See the little knob? Turn it left for colder, right for warmer.”
There’s a brief fumbling sound, followed by another delighted squeal. “Oh, it’s warm now! This is amazing!”
I can’t help but smile a little at her excitement. It’s like she’s discovering the world for the first time, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable.
“Alright,” I say, focusing again. “Next, you need soap.”
Another pause. “Where’s the soap?”
I gesture toward the shower rack without looking. “It’s in the dispenser. Just press the button, and it’ll come out.”
There’s a squelching noise as she follows my instructions. “It’s slimy,” she comments.
“It’s soap,” I reply dryly. “Rub it on yourself. Everywhere. That’s how you get clean.”
“Everywhere?” she echoes, her tone hesitant.
“Yes, everywhere,” I say, my patience thinning. “Arms, legs, back—”
“Even my face?”
“Yes, Mia, even your face.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then I hear her mutter, “This is complicated.”
“It’s really not,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “People do it every day. Now, once you’re soaped up, rinse yourself off with the water.”
“Okay,” she says, and I hear the water splashing as she follows my instructions.
I risk a glance over my shoulder—just a quick one, to make sure she’s not accidentally drowning herself or something—and immediately regret it. Her back is to me, but that’s still more skin than I wanted to see. I snap my head forward so fast I almost give myself whiplash.
Focus, Zane. This is not the time to lose your cool.
“Alright, now shampoo,” I say, pointing blindly toward the shower rack. “It’s the bottle with the green cap.”
“What’s shampoo?”
“It’s for your hair,” I explain. “Put some in your hands, rub it into your scalp, and then rinse it out.”
There’s another pause, and then she says, “This smells really good.”
“Yeah, great. Just don’t drink it,” I say, only half-joking.
I hear her laughing softly, and for a second, I forget about how weird this whole situation is. Her laugh is warm and genuine, and it catches me off guard.
“Alright, now conditioner,” I say, keeping my tone brisk to mask the slight blush creeping up my neck. “It’s the other bottle. Same process, but leave it in for a minute before rinsing.”
“Got it,” she says, and for once, she actually sounds confident.
I wait, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed, listening to the sound of the water. It’s oddly calming, knowing that she’s in there, figuring this out for the first time.
Finally, she turns off the water and calls out, “I’m done!”
I grab the towel I’d set aside earlier and hold it out behind me without turning around. “Here. Dry off and wrap this around yourself.”
She takes the towel, and I hear the soft rustling of fabric as she dries off. “Okay, you can look now,” she says.
I turn around cautiously and find her standing there, wrapped securely in the towel, her hair dripping wet but clean. She’s smiling at me, her eyes bright with an innocence that feels out of place given everything she’s been through.
“How’d I do?” she asks, as if this was some kind of test.
“You didn’t drown, so I’d say you passed,” I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Nice,” she says, her voice carrying a genuine, childlike happiness that tugs at something deep in my chest. Her smile lights up her face, and for a second, it’s like the blood, the chaos, the insanity of the last few hours don’t exist. She’s just a girl, clean and warm, discovering something new.
I catch myself smiling back before I know it, shaking my head slightly at how her excitement is strangely contagious. She’s like a little spark of sunshine in the middle of my storm.
“Alright, let’s get you some clothes,” I say, clearing my throat and turning away before I lose myself in that smile.
I rummage through the bag Charlie had sent over, pulling out a simple outfit—a soft gray sweatshirt and a pair of black leggings. Something comfortable. Something easy. I hand them to Mia, and she stares at them like they’re a puzzle she’s not sure how to solve.
“Do you know how to put these on?” I ask cautiously, already bracing myself for her answer.
She shakes her head, looking up at me with wide, earnest eyes. “Not really. But you can show me, right?”
I groan internally. Of course. Why wouldn’t I have to teach her how to dress, too? “Alright, listen up. It’s not rocket science. The leggings—those are for your legs. One leg in each side, like this.” I motion awkwardly, demonstrating on my own pants. “And the sweatshirt goes over your head. Arms in the sleeves. Got it?”
She nods, her expression serious, like she’s taking notes in her head. “Got it.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll give you some space to figure it out. Just call me if you get stuck.”
I leave the room, shutting the door behind me, and lean against the wall, running a hand through my hair. This day just keeps getting weirder. I mean, how do you even explain this situation to someone without sounding insane? “Oh yeah, I taught a girl how to shower and dress today because she’s been locked in confinement her whole life.” Yeah, totally normal.
After a few minutes of silence, I decide to check on her, just to make sure she hasn’t gotten tangled in the clothes or something. I knock lightly before cracking the door open.
“Mia?” I call softly.
The sight that greets me stops me in my tracks. She’s not tangled in the clothes. In fact, she’s not even awake. She’s curled up on the bed, still wrapped in the towel, fast asleep.
Her face is peaceful, her lips slightly parted, her damp hair spilling across the pillow. She looks so small, so innocent, like a child who’s finally had a long day of running around and just collapsed into sleep.
I step into the room quietly, grabbing the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. As carefully as I can, I drape it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She stirs slightly, murmuring something I can’t quite catch, but she doesn’t wake up.
I stand there for a moment, just watching her breathe. It feels weird, almost invasive, but I can’t seem to pull myself away. She looks so vulnerable, so utterly defenseless, and it hits me—this girl is trusting me, a stranger, to take care of her. To keep her safe.
And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I back out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. Leaning against the wall, I let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling.
“I’m so screwed,” I mutter to myself.
Because no matter how much I tell myself this isn’t my problem, that I didn’t sign up for this, I know deep down that I can’t walk away.
Not now. Not from her.