18. Raine
CHAPTER 18
RAINE
PRETTY LITTLE DEVIL – SHAYA ZAMORA
I wait against the smooth trunk of a tree in our usual spot. After resting for as long as my limited patience would allow, I dragged my bruised and aching body down here for our usual weekly deal.
I don’t want drugs right now, though.
Just Ripley.
Ears straining and senses dialled to ten, I listen for her approach. Ripley’s footsteps are always soft and light, in total contrast to her fierce spirit and wickedly sharp tongue. She seems too small to hold such spunk.
Inhaling deeply, I can’t smell her body wash. The scents of juniper and birch trees linger in the air instead. Spring is in full-swing, and the world is thawing, bringing with it a new miasma of stimuli to paint my internal world.
The scents I’d usually spend hours dissecting hold no interest today. She has to come. I was turned away from the medical wing at every opportunity, forced to wait for her discharge to smell her again.
But that was three days ago now and still nothing. She isn’t at mealtimes. Not in the corridors nor the art room. Not so much as a passing encounter. I’m not going another bloody day without catching her.
So I wait.
Foot tapping and nose twitching.
I don’t know how long I stand here, looking like a total fucking idiot. I feel completely exposed without the comforting weight of my glasses resting on my nose, but until I can locate a replacement pair, I have no choice.
Right now, it’s probably a good thing I can’t see the likely pitying stares of all who shuffle past. God knows what I look like, but I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks.
What’re a few bruises and a nice egg on the back of my head after what they did to her? I don’t give a shit what Ripley’s weird non-friend says. I did fail her. When she needed me, I couldn’t stop them from hurting her.
“What are you doing?”
I stifle a groan. “Go away, Nox.”
Ignoring me, his heavy weight thuds closer. “You’re waiting for her, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
“Anything involving Ripley Bennet is my business.”
A morbid smile tugs at my mouth. He really doesn’t hear it. The way his anger and disdain sound a whole lot like something else. No one can feel that amount of hatred without passion too.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
Lennox’s laughter is a rumbling earthquake. “I wouldn’t touch that whore with a fucking ten-foot pole.”
“Then we don’t have a problem. Do we?”
I sense him stopping in front of me, his enraged teeth grinding audible. Even when she isn’t around, Ripley still manages to get under his skin like nothing else. His hatred for her is borderline obsessive.
“Look what happened to you because of her!” he booms. “You’re lucky those bastards didn’t kill you to get whatever the hell they wanted.”
I’ve kept tight-lipped about what went down. The last thing Ripley needs is for me to give Lennox or Xander more ammunition to use against her. Sure, those thugs beat the shit out of me to provoke her. But it wasn’t her fault.
With the overnight disappearance of Rick and his trigger-happy posse, no one but myself and Ripley knows what happened in the library. I need to ask her where she sent them.
Part of me is afraid to know. I blacked out the moment my head cracked against the floor and woke up to them hauling ass. They didn’t leave us without good reason. She sent them on a hunt.
“Raine.” Lennox’s voice softens, almost sounding like a plea. “Don’t let her get in your head. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“Like you’re any better?” I scoff.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Nox. We all know why you’re in here. What about the shit you’re capable of?”
He gulps hard, the gurgling sound painting a mental picture of his throat bobbing up and down. With darkness all around, I have to piece together countless jigsaw puzzles. Thankfully, he’s never hard to read.
“If I have to remove her from your life to keep you safe, I will,” he redirects.
“Stay away from Ripley. I mean it, Nox.”
“Listen to me! She’s bad news!”
“Go.” My voice is steady despite the ire seizing my muscles. “Don’t talk to me again until you’ve learned to respect my fucking privacy. What I do with her is none of your concern.”
He hisses out a loud breath. I can already sense the cogs in his mind whirling. Plotting. Scheming some great, heroic gesture to save the poor charity case he took pity on. The problem is, Lennox only knows how to use violence to achieve his aims.
Fuck that.
He isn’t my damn bodyguard.
“Have it your way,” Lennox declares.
Sighing, I rub the back of my neck as his stomping feet disappear. I just hope to God I haven’t painted an even bigger target on Ripley’s back by defending whatever the hell we are to each other.
When I feel my cheeks and nose starting to burn from sitting in the sun for too long, I know she’s far past late. Ripley isn’t coming. If she thinks she can scare me off with this hiding act, she’s in for a shock.
I didn’t want to resort to this.
But she’s left me no choice.
Moving slowly and deliberately is the first step to getting around when I’m not being escorted. I struggled to use my guide stick for a long time—terrified of walking face-first into an obstacle despite swinging it around.
Now that instinctual fear has faded. Collisions still happen, but I have a deeper sense of spatial awareness than most people. Even on the days I’m high as a kite or blissfully numbed. Survival instincts kick in.
Climbing the stairs is another matter. It takes precise concentration. Mentally measuring each incline, feeling for the perfect height to place my foot down. After a couple of months here, I’ve sussed it out.
Regardless, it still takes longer than I’d care to admit to reach the sixth floor. I have to count each time the staircase curves around another corner, taking me farther upward.
Dragging my spare hand down the corridor’s papered wall, I bear left and check every door. Metal numbers are screwed into each one, allowing me to fumble my way to my destination.
“Xan?” I rap on door thirty-seven.
It’s a long moment before he swings it open. “Lennox went looking for you.”
“Yeah, he found me. Listen, I need that favour.”
He’s silent for a moment. “What for?”
“I just want to borrow it quickly.”
I briefly worry that Xander has developed a conscience. But when he mutters for me to wait, I know he’s not going to ask any questions. I’m relieved to have at least one semi-uncomplicated friend.
Returning, Xander tugs my wrist then slaps the cool, plastic keycard into it. “Don’t get caught with that. It’s an all-access one.”
“How did you manage to steal it anyway?”
“Probably best that you don’t know.”
With that, he slams the door in my face. Ever the charmer. I slide the keycard into my back pocket and painstakingly make my way back down to the fifth floor, searching for room seventeen next.
I want to respect Ripley’s privacy, but what we just went through together is all kinds of fucked up. She must’ve gotten it in her head that it’s changed something between us. But I won’t let that stand.
With a cursory listen for any guards lingering nearby, I double check the metal numbers on her door before knocking twice. Tapping my foot, I wait. Then I knock again. When there’s still nothing, I pull out the keycard and scan it.
Her door clicks open with a buzz. Stepping inside feels like a gross violation, but I quickly crush the feeling. I don’t have time for ethics right now. Though I do call out her name.
“Ripley? It’s me.”
Silence.
“You in here? We need to talk.”
Not a single whisper.
I’m about to curse up a storm and step outside to formulate a new plan when I hear it. The faint sound of breathing floating from deeper in the bedroom. Tuning everything else out, I can smell the fruity richness of papaya lingering in the air beneath the scents of human hibernation.
She’s in here.
“Come on, Rip. You can’t hide forever.”
Her breathing changes—seizing on an inhale, like words are begging to be set free, but she’s biting her tongue. Stick extended and one hand out, I tentatively step farther into the unknown space.
“If you think this hiding crap is going to work, we need to have a serious conversation. I’m shit at hide and seek.”
Not even my terrible joke rouses a response. I curse when I stub my toe on something that feels a lot like a dresser. Bloody thing was jutting out from around the corner. I must be getting closer.
“Talk to me, guava girl. Tell me you’re okay.”
The tip of my stick meets something that isn’t solid wood nor wall. I bend to feel what it is, my fingers depressing into fabric. Her mattress. I’ve located her bed. Her breathing sounds close too.
“You having a pity party without me?” I try again.
A sigh whistles from her. “Go, Raine.”
“Ah, she speaks. I was starting to worry that I’m invading some random girl’s bedroom.”
Stopping next to the bed, I place a hand on the stiff cotton sheets. Warmth radiates from her curled-up form beneath the duvet, tucked into the top corner of the small twin bed. She’s cocooned in a tiny ball and doesn’t react to my touch.
“Thanks for making room for me. Did you hear me coming?”
“Please,” she whispers. “I want to be alone.”
“What you want and what you need are two different things. I know what this is. And I’m not going to leave you in here all alone.”
“Why not? Everyone else does.”
My stomach twists. “Because I’m not everyone else, alright?”
Propping my guide stick against the wall, I easily kick off my shoes. The laces are never tightly fastened to avoid struggling when I dress. Ripley doesn’t protest as I slide back the covers and lower myself into her bed.
With her tiny body tucked against the cold wall, there’s enough room for me to stretch out next to her. But I don’t touch her. Not yet. It’s like those early days after I lost my vision and couldn’t lift myself from the despair I’d sunk into.
Like a terrified animal trapped in a cage, she has to be coaxed out of this state. Nothing but words will work. Ripley thinks she has my number, but I also have hers. She’s always expecting abandonment.
As hot as I find her violent sass and strong headed will, I can see what pain lies beneath it. The way she holds the entire world at arm’s length, so it doesn’t get close enough to matter. She avoids any opportunity for vulnerability.
Until me.
What she gave me was precious.
I’m selfish enough to admit that I chased her for the thrill of it. The way her attitude made my endorphins spike better than any other drug. She makes me feel alive in a world determined to lock me in the darkness.
But more than that, I like her. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. This isn’t just about feeling alive, it’s about feeling whole. And when I’m with her, I don’t feel lacking. I’m complete and present in the world just like everyone else.
“Are you asleep?” I murmur.
“No.”
“Then you can listen.” I moisten my suddenly dry lips. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I told you it wasn’t your fault.”
“They almost killed you.”
She exhales loudly. “I wish they had.”
Her broken admission is another brick on the heavy pile I’m being crushed beneath.
“Don’t say that, Rip.”
“Why not? There would be no one left to mourn me. No parents. No uncle. Not a single family member.”
“You have friends,” I argue.
“No. I don’t.”
The pressure in my chest expands. “You have me.”
She’s silent for several agonising seconds.
“You got hurt because of me, Raine. Because of what I know. They used you to get to me. How can I ever risk letting that happen again?”
“Rick and those shitheads are gone. No one has seen them for days.”
“You think that matters? There’s a long list of people who hate this place and hate me by extension. I can’t say I blame them for wanting a pop at Harrowdean’s whore .”
Ripley spits the last words out with such hate-filled emotion, I can almost hear a flicker of the spitfire I’ve come to adore. When I overheard the onsite medic, Doctor Hall, discussing what Rick carved into her, I wanted to punch a fucking wall.
“He didn’t even say goodbye,” she mutters.
“Who?”
In the stillness, I can practically hear her chest seize. “My uncle came to visit me in the hospital.”
“Shit. What did he say?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Her voice wobbles. “I’m on my own now.”
Oh, fuck this. She doesn’t need coaxing. She needs someone to pick her up, wrap her in love and tell her that she’s worthy of receiving it. I don’t care if she has to hurt me in the process of accepting that.
Reaching across the bed, I band my arms around her tightly-balled form. She complains at first, but as I drag her into the shell of my body, her whispers die out.
I hold her against my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin and stroking my hand along the ridges of her spine. I can tell that she hasn’t showered for a few days, but it doesn’t bother me. We’ve all been there.
Holding her tight, I give her the safe space to break apart. Wet warmth soaks into my skin as she hides her face. I wonder if anyone has held her and given her permission to be weak since she lost her parents.
“Just leave me alone, Raine,” she cries.
“Not a chance, guava girl.”
“I’m tired of being the bad guy.” She hiccups into my throat. “I don’t want to be the reason anyone else gets hurt.”
“That isn’t your choice,” I say gently.
“Why not?”
“Because we all get hurt in life. The trick is to find the person you care about enough to let them hurt you.”
“I’ve never had that,” she confesses after a long pause.
In the darkness that has long represented fear to me but now feels like home, I can admit the truth.
“Me neither. I guess we both just want to belong somewhere.”
Ripley’s lips brush against my pulse point. “Or to someone.”
With her tears soaking into me and our breath mingling, I can feel our essences dancing hand in hand. There’s something intimate about seeing someone at their lowest point. It’s not just a milestone, it’s a privilege.
I didn’t have anyone to hold me when I needed it the most. I was alone. Afraid. Abandoned. Everything she’s feeling right now. I won’t let her go through it alone.
No one held me.
But I can hold her.
“Your uncle didn’t deserve you as a niece.”
I can practically hear the gears in her head grinding. It’s a long time before she responds mournfully.
“He set this whole thing up for me. Gave me the fucking keys to the kingdom. But if I wasn’t this awful person, perhaps I wouldn’t be alone. Instead, I have nothing.”
My hand moves higher to slide into her hair, gently massaging. “You’re not a bad person, Rip. You’re just a survivor.”
“And a monster.”
“This place has a way of making even the best people into monsters.”
“Then why are you here?” She lifts her head, and I can imagine her staring down at me. “Why are you still humouring whatever this is?”
“Because I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes. We’ve all made enough of them. And I’m not going to let you ruin this based on some whacked opinion of what you think you deserve.”
“Damn. Say it how it is, huh?” An invisible smile peppers her words.
“Always, babe.” I dramatically sniff the air. “On that topic… You’re cute as fuck, but when was the last time you stopped moping around and showered?”
“Raine!”
“I don’t have to be blind to smell that ripeness.”
Her laughter fading, Ripley sighs. “It’s hard for me to do basic stuff when these episodes hit. Even moving is difficult.”
“In the future, we need a signal.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been sitting around like a chump for days waiting for you to show up. I just need to know you’re safe, even if functioning is too much.”
“What kind of signal?” she asks.
“A code word. A hand squeeze. Hell, I’ll take anything. But on those days when your limbs are too heavy to move and everything is unbearable, I need to know so I can come hold you close.”
Her legs slowly uncurl, like she’s preparing for the long, tiresome walk to the attached bathroom. It’s invasive that I can also hear the empty gurgling of her stomach, but my dialled-up senses didn’t get that message.
“I guess I’m just used to dealing with my illness alone.”
“That changes today. I’m making the decision for both of us.”
Ripley snickers. “Then I guess a code word will do. Aren’t they usually reserved for sex, though?”
“You wanna have one for that too? This friends with benefits arrangement just got interesting.”
The bed springs creak with her standing up. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Like you’d want me any other way.”
“I guess not.” Her hand snags my arm then tugs. “Come and wash my back.”
Letting her pull me out of the bed, I’m guided through the bedroom. The sound of the light clicking on and the shower starting are my first clues that we’ve reached the bathroom.
Ripley hisses in pain as she peels off whatever clothes she’s wearing. My hands hover mid-air, looking to help, but she doesn’t ask. So I work on unfastening my jeans and pulling off my t-shirt instead.
My body feels awkward and stiff. They did a real number on me. Nothing permanent, but I was lucky to avoid a concussion. The pain will fade soon enough.
“Christ,” she gasps.
“How’s it looking?”
“Well, your ribs and stomach look like an elephant stomped all over them. Matches your pretty purple face, though.”
“You think I’m pretty?” I cup my own cheeks.
“Get in the fucking shower, Raine.”
“You know that you have the advantage here. I’ve got no idea how rough you’re looking right now.”
I hear her step into the shower. Feeling for the entrance, I join her beneath the spray, the door sliding shut behind me. It’s a tight squeeze, forcing her bare frame to press up against me in the steam.
“Shit.” Ripley’s body leaves mine. “I’m not supposed to get my stitches wet.”
“Hold your arm above me and away from the spray.”
Shifting, her breasts push into my chest as she finds the right position. My hands locate her hips, perfectly curved and slippery with warm water. Anyone would think that I’m dead inside not to be turned-on right now.
But this isn’t about fooling around. As tempting as the slick heat of her body moving against mine is, I just want to take care of her. Beyond anything physical, I need her to know that she’s going to be okay.
We both will be.
I’ll make sure of it.
“Looks like I’m on cleaning duty. Pass the body wash?”
After twisting away from me again, Ripley curls my hand to place a plastic bottle in it. “I’m an arm down. Sorry.”
“It is a hardship, having to lather you up.”
The familiar, heady scent of papaya fills the shower as I spread body wash between my palms. Ripley holds still, letting me slowly run my hands all over her generous curves, ensuring every inch I locate is thoroughly lathered.
What feels like her forehead rests on my chest, just below my clavicles. I can tell by the wet tickle of her hair on my pectorals. My cock twitches, suddenly paying attention. She lets me massage every part of her before I begin to sluice the bubbles off.
“Feel good?”
“Mmm,” she groans unintelligibly.
“Don’t fall asleep on me. Where’s your shampoo?”
Her head briefly lifts. “Here.”
Once she’s slumped back onto my chest, I move my attention to her hair. Washing someone else without a visual frame of reference takes a lot of trial and error. Ripley doesn’t complain when I attempt to shampoo her face twice before eventually finding her hair.
The wet curls slide between my fingertips like reams of fine silk. I’ve been a scents and textures kinda guy since losing my vision. The details that are insignificant to everyone else can hold all of my attention.
Without any distractions, I can take my time memorising every inch of Ripley’s topography. The small, rounded peaks of her ears. How her curls spring back even when wet. Her slim shoulders and the pronounced divots in her spine.
She lets me drink my fill, content to rest against me and enjoy the attention I’m lavishing her body with. Proportionally, she’s everything I find attractive in a woman. But it’s her spirit that makes her stunning.
Once she’s thoroughly washed, I hold her close beneath the spray. I’m debating how I’ll wrestle her sleepy body out of the shower without us both faceplanting when she sighs, her lips puckering against my throat.
Small, open-mouthed kisses spread across my collarbones. Exploring and leaving a static charge in their wake, her lips retreat before pushing against mine. I return the kiss, magnetised by the draw of her skin against mine, holding me steady in the world.
“Rip,” I murmur. “You’re hurt.”
Breaking the kiss, she touches the back of my hand then guides it down to cup her tight ass. Well, shit.
“Please,” she whispers. “I… need to feel you, Raine.”
“I can’t… we’re not?—”
“I don’t want to feel their fists anymore,” she insists, cutting me off. “I’ve spent days reliving the feeling of his body weighing me down, his breath on my face, his knife slicing me up. Please make it go away.”
“They won’t hurt you again. I promise. No one will.”
“Doesn’t erase the memories.” Her whispered voice catches.
My other hand clasping the back of her head, I plant kisses across her mouth. “I know you’re feeling alone and scared right now. But you’re going to get past this.”
“How?”
“Because falling down is a part of life, Rip. Getting back up? That’s living.”
Mouth crushing against mine, she replies with a hard, almost frantic kiss. Like she’s desperately kicking her legs, trying to tread water, and I’m her last source of oxygen.
Screw this.
Needing reassurance of my own, I kiss her back with every ounce of fear that’s been eating away at me since I blacked out. The terror of not being able to defend myself or help. Then the silence of the past few days, all the while wondering if she’s ever coming back to me.
This isn’t the time or place. Sex was the last thing on my mind as I marched here, determined to find the woman I was told to hate, but I’m learning to… Fuck . Learning to what?
Like?
Maybe even love?
The realisation that she’s wormed her way far deeper than I ever thought possible only spurs me on to seize this moment before it’s ripped away from me like everything else.
Nothing good ever lasts, but I’m not ready to let go of this feeling yet.
Releasing her hair, I find the dripping swell of her breast and squeeze. She moans into my mouth, hips shifting with each kiss, pressing her centre up against my growing hardness.
When she abruptly pulls her lips from mine, I panic.
“Shit. Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
Skimming her hand down my abdominals, she makes her intentions clear. Now unbandaged fingers wrap around my swollen cock, sliding up and down the shaft with a delicious application of pressure.
I grit my teeth, feeling a surge of heat deep within. Her hand feels far too fucking good wrapped around my dick. I hear her shift, feet squeaking against the shower floor, before the feeling of pleasure intensifies.
“Fuck, Rip!”
Her lips have found their way to my cock, taking it into the warm, welcome prison of her mouth. She must’ve kneeled down. I quickly locate her lowered head then retake a handful of her hair.
Beginning to suck, she bobs up and down on my length, her tongue sliding against my shaft with each movement. The loud shower and absence of sight forces me to focus on nothing but her mouth fucking me.
Lips tighten. Teeth graze. Her hands move to cup my balls and lightly play, causing me to jerk inside her mouth. Holding her hair, I let my hips thrust, working in time to her sucking.
She lets me slide deeper and deeper each time, until I can feel her throat nudging against my tip. Despite the quiet gagging sounds, Ripley doesn’t stop sucking. I’m soon riding her mouth and battling to hold on.
“You’re so perfect,” I hum.
Her mouth cinches around me in response, teasing another surge of pleasure free. Those devilish lips know just how to imprison a guy and demand ransom in return.
What began as a small collection of embers is now a raging blaze inside me. I need to be balls deep inside her right now. She’s turning me into some kind of primitive caveman.
Pulling her head back, I slide out before I can spill my load down her throat. As tempting as that is, my girl deserves a thorough fucking, and I’m not the kind of man to disappoint.
“Turn around and bend over,” I instruct roughly. “Spread yourself open for me, babe.”
Reaching behind me, I fumble to turn off the shower. The last thing I want is to soak her stitches. By the time I’ve twisted the knob, I can sense that she’s moved. Her tight rear butting up against my erection confirms it.
Placing a hand on her lower back, I push down to make her bend even farther. I want to slide deep into her in one brisk thrust and feel her contract around me. She’s breathing hard in anticipation, waiting for relief to come.
What I wouldn’t give to have a view of her perfect cunt glistening with desire right now. Even a fucking glimpse. Instead, I have to slide two fingers over her ass then lower to locate my target.
Her moans intensify as I find her entrance and breach it, too impatient to tease her with featherlight touches. Her pussy responds immediately, pulling my fingers into its heat. She’s so damn tight.
“Raine,” she whimpers.
“I’ve got you, babe.”
Working her over several times, I know she’s good and ready. Her moans have dissolved into needy wails, and I can feel the silkiness of her juices on my fingertips.
Holding a thumb just above her cunt, I fist my cock and line it up with her slit. The euphoric cry that spills out of her as I piston inside is music to my ears. She cries out so loud, it reverberates around us.
I’m already buried deep in her, but shifting my hips back, I drive into her once more. She stretches around me, her walls hugging my dick in a vice. I already want to fill her up.
“This is going to be hard and fast,” I warn her.
“Yes,” she moans. “Please… Yes.”
Gripping her waist, I pull out again only to surge back in. Faster with each pump. Harder with each slam. She takes me so well, I don’t care how long this is going to last. Taking her like this feels better than mainlining fucking heroine.
Her escalating cries spur me on. Each time I advance into her, Ripley makes the most incredible sounds. The woman who stripped off and rode me like a goddamn pro in an abandoned building is roaring back to life.
Each plunge reignites the sore bruises that I can feel littering me, but the pain is inconsequential. It sharpens my senses until I can practically taste her sweet arousal dancing in the lingering steam.
“Raine,” she pants. “I’m so close.”
“Let go then, babe.”
Driving into her hard and fast, I feel her clench tight. The increased pressure is pushing me to the finish line too quickly. I’m happy to go fast, but I still need to satisfy her first.
Ripley cries out again, her moans reaching a fever-pitch. I can feel her climaxing as every muscle tightens, holding her on the verge of a steep plummet before letting her freefall.
She isn’t allowed to come down from that high. Not yet. I want her limp and boneless by the time she leaves this shower. Maybe then she’ll think twice before hiding from me again.
Collecting moisture by gliding my thumb over her clit, I search for the tight ring of muscle I used as a compass earlier. She’s a gasping wreck, but the moment my thumb locates her asshole, Ripley jerks back to life.
“Oh God!”
“Hold still. You’re okay.”
Her voice takes a hot as fuck, guttural note as my thumb pushes into her backside. I’m still sheathed inside her, and with both holes now filled, she’s trembling so hard it feels like vibrations.
“Do you like it when I play with your asshole, dirty girl?”
“Yes,” she whines.
“Are you going to come all over my cock again?”
“I can’t… I’m…”
“That’s the wrong answer.”
Pushing deeper into her rear, I resume thrusting at the same time, adopting a brutal pace. My own climax is threatening. I’m tight with tension, and my balls feel ready to explode.
She’s so wet and spent, it doesn’t take much to push her to the edge again. Folded over, Ripley lets me fuck her raw like a man possessed. I have no idea how we’re both still standing as my release finally crests.
Ripley calls out my name, her second orgasm milking me of every last drop. I spill into her with an uncharacteristic roar, letting pure instinct take over. My body is calling the shots.
When she wobbles against me, I move fast, sliding an arm beneath her folded-over body before she can crumple. Ripley lets me pull her upright, and her back meets my chest, our pants for breath filling the shower.
“Well.” I suck in a lungful of air. “Next time you’re in this state, my plan is to fuck the sadness out of you. Seems like it works pretty well.”
Her breathless laugh is all the agreement I need.