Chapter 7
Tegan
If this isn’t fucking uncomfortable, then I don’t know what is. I had to let a grown man see that I can hardly handle something as normal as a shower. Something most people do every single day for the entirety of their lives.
Showers have been difficult for me since I was a child. I mean, I take them eventually, but showering is the single most vulnerable position you can be in when you live in a home that isn’t safe.
But I felt safe when he came in with me, which blows my mind. I still feel safe because he’s guarding the door. With a renewed energy I haven’t felt in my entire life, I wash myself up. Every part of me. And I take my time doing it.
I even get courageous enough to remove my underwear and wash them with a handful of soap. Mindful of the holes in the fabric, I rinse and scrub the tiny cotton scrap until the water runs clean. Satisfied, I ring them out and step into them.
Fear chokes me for a moment as the curtain moves and a towel is presented to me. I grab it, flip off the shower, and wrap it around my waist.
When I walk out of the stall, Alec avoids looking at me.
Normally, this is the outcome I want. I don’t want people staring at me.
But his avoidance has the opposite effect, leaving me feeling incredibly insecure.
I’m not accustomed to a man who doesn’t stare at me for one reason or another.
Whether I was dirty or clean, they always stared. Every fucking one of them.
Maybe he’s trying to be polite. I mean, the thin, soaked cami isn’t exactly leaving anything to the imagination.
“Sorry you had to treat me like a child. I swear I’m not.” My gaze drops to a crack in the tiles. If I thought we were heading to a shower, I wouldn’t have let us come in here. I guess I needed it, though. I’m sure everyone is sick of me stinking up the van.
Alec swipes a hand through his wet hair. “I understand. I really do. Don’t even worry about it. Once you looked like you could handle it on your own, I let you.”
Does he, though? Does he really understand? Because I’ve never met anyone who has.
He picks up his shirt, along with the one he stole.
“The shower didn’t shrink me,” I say. “That shirt still won’t fit me.”
“It’s not for you.” He holds his shirt toward me. The literal shirt off his back.
I shake my head. “I can’t accept that.”
“You absolutely can.” He shakes his shirt, but I still refuse. “Just think of it as borrowing. I’ll get you something of your own tomorrow, and you can return it.”
Oh, great. More charity.
He wiggles the shirt again, and I take it because what choice do I have?
I turn away from him, remove my cami, and slide his dark shirt over my naked torso. It hides the curves of my breasts and stomach, which makes me feel a little safer.
By the time I turn around, he’s wearing the stolen t-shirt. That particular shade of blue is a little too bright and cheery for him, but he doesn’t have another option. He passes me the black sweatpants, and I put them on beneath the towel and drop the scratchy cotton to the floor.
It feels good to be in something clean. To be clean. And to know that it’s not the grand prelude to a visit from one of my mother’s creepy friends.
I have to give myself a little pinch to make sure I’m not dreaming. God, this is going to take some getting used to.
Ace swipes a hand through his damp hair, then turns for the door. “We should get going. I don’t want the others to worry.”
I grab his arm and stop him. “Hey . . .” I swallow. “Thanks for that. For not . . .”
I can’t finish my sentence, but he seems to understand. A lazy smile crosses his face, drawing up that piercing below his eye. He does absolutely nothing to try, but he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. Like something that fell from a movie screen into my lap.
“Come on, pup. Let’s get going.”
He walks ahead of me, and I follow him back to the parking lot.
The crew still lingers around the van. Cigarette butts dot the ground around their feet like some sort of white-trash confetti.
How long were we in there? It only felt like a few minutes, but I guess time flies when a man is fucking bathing you.
The redhead gives me a narrow-eyed glare before climbing into the van. I’m not sure what that’s about. I’m clearly clean and won’t offend her delicate senses anymore.
A guy with a long blond ponytail puts his arm around Ace’s neck. “Nice shirt, asshole.”
“That blue almost matches your eyes,” a raven-haired woman says, though her voice is hardly above a whisper.
A red hue crosses his cheeks, and I feel a moment of insecurity. Jealousy, maybe? Fuck if I know. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“Let’s just get going.” Ace reaches for me and pulls me into him. We climb into the van together, and I end up on his lap once more. God, I hope this is the permanent seat setup, because I like feeling his heat beneath me.
It makes me feel . . . safe?
Yeah, that’s the right word. Something about this stranger makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt with anyone else, including my own mother. That’s fucked.
“Where are we heading?” someone asks.
“Rumson. One of the wealthiest areas in New Jersey.”
Everyone cheers, and I’m the lone silent charge inside the van. I have no clue what we’re celebrating. Or what to expect.
Then horror hits me as I remember that this is a trial to see if I’m worth keeping around. My skills will be tested, but what skills? And what if I’m not up to their standards? Will they leave me hundreds of miles from home with nothing on my back but someone else’s clothes?
Panic grips my throat in a chokehold, and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All that safety could be ripped away if I’m not good enough at . . . whatever they do.
A warm hand drops to my thigh as Ace taps my skin. He gives my leg a squeeze and looks over at me, and the fear vanishes. The contagious energy pours from him to me, and I find myself smiling with some kind of anticipation I didn’t have before. His touch can do that much to me.
And it shouldn’t.
My mother didn’t give me much in this life, but she taught me that people can’t be trusted. Not even handsome people who pretend to be nice. His eyes are blue enough to make me forget that lesson, and I can’t.
As the conversations pick up again, I stare out the window and bid farewell to the hell I knew. My eyelids droop, and I rest my head against the cool glass. When I wake up tomorrow, it will be time to greet a new life. I just have to hope I didn’t trade one hell for another.