Chapter Thirteen
Karina
I had never driven drunk in my life. I wasn’t sure if I was even still buzzed after the insanity, but I had spent my whole life proudly never, ever, drinking and driving. But there I was, opening the driver’s-side door of Kael’s massive truck. I hadn’t even started the engine yet but was already so anxious. I was hoping that Kael would come back to me, to this realm of reality. It sucked, sure as hell, but I didn’t want to face it alone, and I didn’t know what to do with the man standing at the passenger side. I waited for Kael to open the door before I started the truck. When the door didn’t open, I climbed back out and walked around to him. He stood there, still as stone, eyes nearly as dark as the sky. It was so quiet, even as everyone scrambled before the MPs could arrive. We needed to go, and fast. I had already witnessed what could happen if the MPs and Kael crossed paths again, and this time, I knew it would be much, much worse.
His wide chest moved up and down in waves, his facial features not moving at all. Wet dots of blood on his cheek reflected the moonlight. A thick chill ran over me, and my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, but I forced it down, needing to put Kael first.
“Kael.” I quietly said his name. “Kael, we need to go.” I stood in front of him, leaning up on my tippy-toes so my eyes would meet his. He was still blank, no one and nothing in his eyes. He blinked, confusion blurring his features.
“Who are you?” he asked me.
I lost my breath. I had never dealt firsthand with someone in the middle of an episode of PTSD. I had heard many of stories from my clients, but this was entirely different. I loved Kael and he was lost; I didn’t know where to go or what to say to find him. My heart had never been so broken.
“Martin.” I cleared my throat. His attention snapped to me. “Martin,” I repeated as a tiny, tiny bit of life came back to him. “Sergeant, we need to evacuate. Immediately.”
I had no fucking idea what I was saying but it worked, something clicked inside of him, and he moved so quickly to get into the passenger seat that he nearly knocked me over. The sirens wailed through the air as I rushed to the driver’s side and turned the key. Kael’s seatbelt was already on, and his eyes were tracking inside of the vehicle and out the windshield in quick little movements. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening inside of him, but I knew I had to get him out of there.
“I’m going to drive now,” I said in the most neutral, flat, soldierlike voice I could manage.
“Got it.”
I drove away from the Mendozas’ house and got off the post as fast as I possibly could. The heat of my own uncontrollable tears covered my face and flowed down my neck. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, I let them fall. I left the radio off, and time dragged and dragged, making it feel like it took an hour to get to my house. I parked in the driveway even though Kael usually left his truck on the street. Bradley, my neighbor, was walking into his house, so I waved and waited for him to go in, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the difference in Kael from a distance. The last thing I needed was Bradley, or anyone, getting involved and escalating the situation.
Fear coursed through me as I prepared to look over at Kael and speak to him.
“Martin.” I spread my voice like butter, trying not to alarm him.
His brows drew down his forehead, eyes confused and lips frowning. “Martin?”
Was Kael back?
If so, was he aware that he had blanked out?
My hands were slightly shaking, my heart pounding, as I turned my body to him.
“Kael?”
“Yeah?” He responded as if nothing had happened, as if I had asked him if he wanted pizza for dinner.
“We’re home,” I told him, looking at my yard and house. The porch light was on and the materials for the deck were all over the place.
His eyes met mine and he studied me. I could feel him assessing me. I pulled my gaze away first and climbed out of the truck. Kael met me on the driver’s side at a pace that made me jump. He stood in front of me, his body towering over mine, his jaw ticking as if he had a million things to say but the words were caught, unable to escape.
I reached my hand out, unsure what would happen. Before my fingertips touched him he fell to his knees in front of me, sobs violently overtaking his body. He pressed his head against my torso and his muffled screams shook my body. We stayed like that until he was dry of tears. I rubbed his head, telling him it would be okay, that everything would be okay. I knew I was lying, but I repeated it anyway.
“Where did you go?” I asked Kael as I turned the cold water for the bathroom sink on and let it run over his hands.
He didn’t so much as flinch as the water touched his open wounds. He was seated on the closed toilet seat, and I stood over him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low, eyes not meeting mine.
“You know what I mean,” I tactfully responded.
I wasn’t intending on opening his emotional wounds after what he had just gone through, but I couldn’t pretend like nothing had happened. His soul had disappeared in front of my own eyes. A chill ran over my entire body as I recalled the uncontrollable difference in him and the release of it on my lawn. Of course I knew he would never lay a finger on me, or anyone except a lunatic holding a gun, but deep down, I wasn’t sure if I believed that after what had happened less than an hour ago. My hands shook as I poured peroxide over his skin and dabbed it with a clean towel. His skin was ripped, and I took a pair of nail clippers from the drawer and disinfected them before cutting the dangling skin.
I went to press a bandage gently over the wounds, and Kael reached for my hands, clasping them in his.
“Are you afraid of me right now? Is that why you’re shaking like that?” His voice was so low, and misery and shame filled his eyes.
My heart sank; the pain was nearly indescribable. “No.” I tried to even out my voice.
“Yeah, you are.” He let go of my hands and dropped his head.
My eyes burned as I attempted to stop tears from pouring out.
“I’m not. I’m . . . Tonight was terrifying. He had a gun. An actual gun, and I was so scared you were going to kill him.” My shoulders shuddered, and my entire body reacted.
As I said it, I realized how big of a deal it was, how badly things could have gone, and a million scenarios ran through my mind, from bad to worse, to bodies lying on the ground—mine included. It was suddenly freezing in the bathroom. I could barely hold myself up, and I held on to the edge of my sink. When I looked into the mirror, my lips were purple and my skin was pale.
Kael stood up and I didn’t move—I couldn’t. He turned the shower on, and the steam filled the small, poorly ventilated bathroom.
“Can I?” He lifted his battered hands toward me.
I nodded, words not coming.
He reached for the bottom of my dress and lifted it up over my head. I felt like I was in a plastic bubble, not quite touching reality but still aware of what was going on. He kneeled in front of me and pulled my leg warmers off one by one.
I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and he turned his face up to look at me. “You’re freezing. Get in the shower,” he instructed. His voice softened as he added, “Please.”
I followed his lead and held on to his hand as I stepped over the tub’s edge to stand under the warm water. As the drops hit my bare skin, they burned because of how cold I was, but after a minute or so my body warmed up. My shoulders finally stopped shaking and my breath was coming out more evenly as I closed my eyes and let the water attempt to wash away the traumatic experience we’d just had.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but the air was so thick with steam when I opened my eyes that I could barely see the curtain. I pulled it back and saw the outline of Kael’s silhouette leaning against the wall, his head lifted and resting against it.
“Kael,” I said, reaching my arm out of the curtain and toward him.
He turned his head quickly, stepping toward me, foggy steam swirling around him.
“Come in?” I asked, needing to be close to him. Now that a little bit of the shock had worn off, I desperately wanted him to be close to me.
Silently, he undressed and stepped into the shower. He stood behind me, still not saying a word. I turned around to face him and cupped his face. His eyes dropped closed, and I brushed my fingers over his skin. I felt guilty for making him feel like a monster, but I didn’t know how to say that without taking away from the seriousness of what had gone down. On top of that, there was the Elodie and Austin situation—were they okay? I reminded myself there was nothing to be done about them in this moment, so I allowed myself to have a moment of peace with Kael; we both needed it.
“Turn around,” he said, eyes still closed.
My heart sank. “Kael, I’m not—” I began to explain myself, but he interrupted me.
“I’m going to wash your hair,” he said, and leaned down to grab my shampoo from the edge of the bath.
I turned around and put my face in the water. His hands clumsily rubbed my scalp, but after a few seconds it became more natural. The smell of my shampoo filled my senses; the scent of the lather was incredibly relaxing. Circling my neck, I let my shoulders relax into the sensation. All the worries of the night washed away, rolling down my wet, warm skin as he unhooked the showerhead and rinsed the suds from my strands. It felt so, so good. His hands moved my soaking hair to the front of my shoulder, and he massaged my neck. As a licensed therapist, I was surprised how good he was, hitting all the right pressure points and pressing and kneading exactly where I needed relief.
“Thank you, that feels so good,” I said, as the water rushed over my face.
Kael’s hands moved down to my shoulders and he continued to show me a deep level of intimacy that I couldn’t have fathomed had existed before knowing him. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but it still felt so new to me. Was this our new thing? How would I ever be able to bathe or shower alone after being so pampered by him?
“My pleasure,” Kael said, pressing his lips against the spot between my shoulder blades.
I hesitated to say it, but he knew how religious I was about my shower routine. “Can you do the conditioner too? Otherwise my hair will be a tangly mess. I can also do it myself, I appreciate you even—” From behind me his hand clasped my mouth before I could finish.
I laughed against it, and he grabbed the conditioner bottle, reading the label to make sure it was the right one. Once it was rinsed out, he ran the loofah filled with body wash across my entire body. I held on to his shoulders as he washed my thighs, my calves, and even my feet. I felt like crying again. I really needed to get a handle on my emotions, but tonight had just been too much. Once he was finished he tried to hand me a towel from the rack outside the shower curtain, but I pulled at his hand, taking the towel gently and tossing it onto the floor. Confusion filled his face and I waved my finger for him to switch spots with me.
“It’s your turn,” I said, kissing him softly on his bare chest.
He didn’t say anything or try to refuse; he just moved around me to stand under the water, and I squeezed the body wash onto the loofah and rubbed it across his wide chest, down and under each arm. He was surprisingly ticklish and kept moving, which made both of us laugh. The trauma of the evening felt like it had happened a month ago. I bent down on my knees to wash Kael’s legs and he jerked back, hitting his head on the metal part of my showerhead.
“What happened?” I looked up, my heart racing.
“I don’t . . . I don’t want you to touch my leg. Or even see it . . .”
Huh?
“What are you talking about? I’ve seen your legs a hundred times,” I told him, looking at the bottoms of his legs in front of me.
What in the . . . ?
“See—” He groaned, not looking at me.
I raced through all the times we had been undressed in front of one another, all of the time we’d spent in bed, all of the massages, and it all clicked in my head. This was why he always hid himself.
“I can’t see anything.” I closed my eyes. “Now let me wash you, it’s only fair since you did me.”
My heart raced, aching and ripping apart all at once. The burned skin, the healed but still inflamed skin, the idea of him suffering nearly made me sick on the spot, but I refused to show him that. I refused to make him feel like he had anything to be ashamed of, like every part of him wasn’t absolutely, unquestionably exquisite.
I knew he had an injury but he kept it shielded from me, so I guess my mind had filed it away and I hadn’t thought much about the appearance of it. I didn’t care how it looked; I only cared if he was in pain. And I wanted to kill whoever had done this to him. As I swirled the bubbly soap around his skin and down to his feet, I remembered back to our first meeting, that fateful massage when he wore sweatpants and I just thought he was uncomfortable, to the party at my dad’s and how he was about to reveal that part of himself to me but we were interrupted.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.” I looked up at him and his eyes were blazing, intense yet careful, as he watched me.
I leaned in a bit and kissed his scarred skin, making him gasp, and stood back up to face him.
“You’re perfect,” I assured him, meaning it to my core.