58. Ransom
58
RANSOM
T he shower is something like heaven.
It takes a long time for me to leave it. I rest my palm on the wall, drop my head, and let the hot, steamy water pound down on my neck and shoulders.
I wash away the hospital. The grit and grime. The sour memories of that night.
The doctors called me lucky. Said it was a clean shot, whatever that means. I’m grateful for it, I suppose. It’ll be a cool scar, once it stops burning like hellfire every time I take a step.
I towel myself off, manage to get on a clean pair of briefs, and climb into bed. Everett and Claire are already settled in, but they part ways, making a spot for me in the middle.
I flop onto my back. I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Alright. This is nice.”
Claire’s sweet body cuddles up against mine. The tassel around her robe tickles my hip, and she threads her leg around mine, her ankle hooking.
She kisses my shoulder. My throat. The tiny press of her lips sends a warm tingle all through me .
“God, it’s good to have you back,” she says.
I open my eyes to glance at the man to my right. “What about you, Everett? You miss me?”
He’s propped up on an elbow. He frowns. “Not at all. It was gloriously peaceful without you around.”
I snort on a laugh. “Jackass.”
Everett lifts the covers. He touches my hip, his thumb carefully sliding on the edge of the scar. “Are you in pain?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
His small, tender touches and Claire’s sweet little kisses are wreaking havoc on me. I’ve been poked and prodded for the past couple of weeks by clinical, distant hands. I’m affection-starved, and my heartbeat kicks in my chest.
I tilt my head to catch Claire’s lips in my mouth, but she starts suddenly. It’s tiny, just a little jump, like a spooked horse.
I stop in my tracks immediately.
Okay. Let’s slow this down.
Way down.
I nuzzle against her, our noses touching. “Y’want me to braid your hair?” I ask.
Her eyes light up at that. “Yes, please.”
She gets up, patters into the bathroom, and comes back with a hair tie around her wrist and a brush in her hand. I sit up, and she climbs half in my lap, giving me her back.
I run the brush through her soft, blonde hair. It glides through nearly effortlessly. When it catches, I take my time on the knots, carefully working them out. When she’s smooth as satin, I put the brush down and part her hair into three sections. I start winding them together, crisscrossing them in a tight braid.
This feels soul-healing. Claire falls into a near trance in my lap, quiet as a kitten. I love the way her hair slips between my fingers.
“Get ready, Everett,” I say as I take the hair band, tying off Claire’s braid. “You’re up next.”
He touches the back of his head. “There’s not a lot to work with.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
I pick up the brush again. I run it over his scalp.
Everett tilts his head to give me better access. He lets out a low, throaty sound.
Is he…purring?
“Oh,” he says, a note of surprise in his tone. “That is good.”
His small curls are tight. Not a lot of tangles here, but even after everything is nice and soft, I keep going, passing the teeth over his scalp. He sinks his body against mine.
Finally, I put the brush away. I move my hand to the side of his face, but I pause before making contact.
“Can I touch you here?” I ask.
Those blue eyes meet my gaze. “Yes.”
I take his face in my hand. Strong jaw in my palm. Short hair under my fingertips. The thing that I want to say stuck behind my teeth. Finally, I come out with it: “I wanna kiss you. Is that okay by you?”
He tilts upward. An invitation. “Yes,” he says.
I’m man enough to say this now: I’ve been fantasizing about kissing Everett for some time now.
Throwing him against a wall. Bruising his lips. An electric, vicious continuation of the power play we’ve had since we both set eyes on each other.
Never in a million years did I imagine kissing Everett would be a sweet, healing thing.
Warmth and affection and a deep, strong trust.
When our lips part, my breath is light. I can feel our hearts beating in sync.
We’ve all got scars from that night. Mine’s a big, ugly, purpling thing, but theirs is like this hot, storm cloud energy, vibrating right under the surface of things.
We’ve all got a lot of healing to do.
“We’ve got nothing but time,” I tell them. “Maybe we just take this part slow.”
“I’d like that,” Claire says. She hooks her hand on the back of my neck, and this time, she’s the one to guide my lips against hers. I sink against her, tasting her. Savoring her.
The three of us spend the night wrapped up in each other, exchanging kisses until the stars fall out of the sky.