Chapter 20
TWENTY
Danika
My hair falls from my bun as I quickly ruffle it between my fingers tugging down my winter hat. Now that my shift is over, I can relax. Eric wasn’t there today, and it was a relief considering I’ve been avoiding that sleaze as much as possible without being too conspicuous.
My coat wraps around me as I step outside, the cold instantly freezing me down to my toes. I struggle to lock the door because the damn thing never did work right but when I step away, something or someone catches my eye.
A man covered in blood is weakly propped against the diner wall.
My stomach twists as I quickly look around for anyone else. Is this another murder?
My breathing turns heavy and I start to back away slowly, but then… the person’s head slightly moves to the side and…
“Oh my god!”
Their hood is up but I can’t believe I didn’t notice him right away.
Hush’s arms rest lazy at his sides and there’s so much blood. So much blood. On his face, his leather, his sweatshirt underneath. I don’t know what to do. Is it his? I don’t care who’s on the other end of it, I don’t want it to be his.
“Hush.” My shaky voice carries through the silent winter air.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even turn his head to look at me. He keeps his eyes straight to the ground. They are so empty and lifeless as I kneel, feeling the cold skin on his cheek. Still no movement. Not even a flinch.
“Are you hurt? Is this your blood?” It’s agonizing waiting for an answer as I scan him up and down.
But with a small shake of his head, the air releases into my lungs again.
Thank God.
“Can you walk?”
Nothing.
Not a beat of anything.
Okay, then.
“I’m going to help you up, but you gotta give me something.” I position myself next to him, gently taking his arm and swinging it over my shoulders. He lets me, without a freak out, so I continue struggling to get him up off the cold, wet, snowy sidewalk.
“On the count of three. One… two… three.” With the last number earning a grunt, I let out a fierce growl helping him to a stand.
His body swallows mine, heavy with dead weight, but as I struggle, the weight of his solid frame seems to ease up. He’s like a baby calf learning how to walk for the first time.
His body is a wobbly mess as he leans on me for support, his left arm still draped over my shoulders and my arms around his waist to give him stability. But this isn’t exactly a cake walk. I’m way smaller than him and practically carrying a well over six-foot large man seems impossible.
Somehow, we make it across the street and into my building. I don’t know where else to go, where to take him, so back to my apartment is the only answer and only choice. My roommate is still gone, and I couldn’t just leave him outside like this.
For someone who claims he’s not physically injured, he’s sure acting otherwise.
“Oh god, stairs.” I let out an exacerbated laugh. It’s impeccable timing our elevator is out of service. “Come on. You have to help me out here.”
The steps are a test of my strength, which I clearly have none. But to be fair, it’s like carrying an elephant.
Finally making it to my apartment door, I swing his arm off me so I can find my key. The thirty seconds is a welcoming break to catch my breath. I spare a glance over at him, his eyes still unaware, and his body ready to fall over at any given minute if it wasn’t for the wall holding him up.
“All right. Back on, big guy.” I stagger with him inside my place, heading straight for the bathroom. Not an enjoyable conversation if my roommate came home to blood stains everywhere on her furniture.
I let him go, gently letting his body sink to the floor, his back now resting against the tub while I turn on the shower. He’s visibly shaking. Whether it’s from being cold or adrenaline, he needs to be under a warm shower.
“I’m going to take off your club vest, okay?” Not expecting him to answer, I work the blood-stained leather off his body, placing it off to the side.
What the hell happened?
The steam from the hot water surrounds us and I stand there, stumped, starting to feel the sweat trickling down my back from the heavy ass man I just carried up a flight of stairs.
I quickly shed my winter gear, setting my hat and scarf next to his cut, and throwing my hair up into a bun so it’s out of the way.
My eyes widen when I catch a glimpse of what I look like in the mirror. Blood smeared across on my face.
I ignore it for now. “We need to get you under the warm water.” I don’t think twice, because right now isn’t the time to decide if it’d be awkward seeing Hush nearly naked.
I begin working off his sweatshirt from his trembling body, leaving just a white T-shirt loosely hanging from his torso.
Then I take that off too, tossing it to the side.
There are tattoos everywhere inked on his light skin.
They follow every curve, every ridge of muscle, beautifully flowing like one intertwined work of art.
A tree branch starts at his ribs with butterflies lifting over his chest. The illusion so perfectly done so, you can swear they are soaring and flying with a destination in mind.
He's… perfect. Utterly perfect.
With his eyes still lost, and his body still shaking, I stop gawking so I can get him under the water.
“You need to help me stand you up.” I need to get his jeans off.
With both my feet planted on either side of his thighs, I reach under his arms, bending at the knees and hoisting him up to a wobbly standing position.
I go to unbutton his jeans but freeze when his hand clutches over my wrist halting me.
His eyes remain a million miles away with his cold hand gently laying over top of my bare skin causing goosebumps.
But then it’s gone, and I take that as my sign to continue.
I pay him the respect he deserves by keeping my eyes off that area, leaving his boxer briefs on.
The strength it requires getting him over the tub and under the water will never be matched.
He looks absolutely destroyed as he sits there, letting the water soak his almost naked body, knees curled to his chest, his eyes staring at nothing.
What am I supposed to do? Do I give him privacy?
As soon as I take a step for the door, Hush says with quiet and broken words, “He touched her.”
My stomach twists. I obviously don’t know who he’s referring to but there’s no way I can resist the curiosity.
Still in my uniform, I move under the hot stream and copy his sitting position only a foot away.
Within seconds my clothes and hair are soaked, water pouring down over both of us like a waterfall.
With the water dripping over his face like this, it somehow enhances his beautiful strong features.
I don’t believe perfection can be made more stunning than this.
I’m careful to ease into it, not to frighten him. “Who?” I ask softly. I want to know who she is but also who the other man was, too.
The flare of his nostrils, and the whites of his knuckles as he fists his hands into a ball are the first real emotions I’ve seen from Hush since I found him outside the diner. Even anger is a good sign, which means he’s coming back to the present.
“I killed him,” he says under the grinding of his teeth.
The breath catches in my throat, my heart taking a giant leap.
He killed someone.
Here I sit merely inches from a murderer.
Hearing such a confession should make me run for my life, leave his broken soul under the shower, in my apartment, and get the heck out of dodge. Yet… I reach for his hand, waiting for him to jolt back or at least flinch from my touch, but he doesn’t.
“He must have deserved it then.” At my words, Hush flicks his gaze to mine, his black soulless eyes returning with a bit of something resembling rage, but I’m just happy to see life.
His fierce gaze does something to me, and even under the hot stream, my blood turns into a fiery liquid. The fury inside him dies as sadness takes over. His shoulders slump in the process.
The final red flow of water disappears down the drain, it now running clear but there’s no way he feels clean, I’d know, because I too have never felt clean.
After that abomination of a man took what he wanted from me, my skin felt scarred.
And after I was rescued and returned home it didn’t matter that I would sit just like this under the stream of water because I will always be tainted with his foul touch.
I rise, grabbing the shampoo. “May I?”
With the same sorrow filled eyes, he lazily nods, and I secretly hope he doesn’t mind smelling like coconut and vanilla.
I gently start rubbing it into his scalp working on the longer strands, then letting the spray of water rinse clean.
I do the same with the body wash after he gives me the okay.
I take my hands, softly messaging his shoulders first. Satisfaction selfishly runs through me as his eyes flutter close, taking in the feeling.
I move down his hard back and then shimmy to his front, lathering the soap on his chest and then down his abdominal muscles.
There’s a slight jerk from him as I lather the creamy soap over top of them, and I could have sworn I heard a faint hissing as he sucked in a breath. But I probably imagined it.
With us this close we share the same breath, locked in each other’s gazes as I continue to wash him.
Touch him.
Feel him.
The water turns cold, stripping us of any warmth left.
With both our bodies dripping wet, and water drizzling onto the bathroom floor, I grab two clean towels.
He stares at me, the same way he always does, with an intensity my body is never ready for.
The leftover water slowly trickles over every part of him as he wraps the towel around himself, his mind now here with me.
I dry the biggest parts of me off before we leave the steamed over bathroom.
He’s still quiet as we exit but at least he’s not in a comatose state anymore.
“My roommate’s boyfriend always leaves clothes here. I can see if he has a pair of clean sweatpants you can borrow.” Hoping that’s not too weird to offer.
He nods, still holding my eyes captive with his.
Damn.
“Okay. Give me a sec.” I quickly fish out a pair of sweats from my roommate's bedroom and hand them to Hush. He hooks his fingers under the tops of his wet boxers, and I spin, knowing he’s about to be commando under there.
Luckily, they look to fit him because when I come back over from collecting blankets, they hang perfectly at his waist.
“It gets cold here at night. Our heat never works well.” I set the blankets down on the couch, not knowing what to do next. “You can stay here tonight if you need to. I know, it’s odd we’re constantly having these unintentional sleepovers, but...” I swallow harshly, wanting to stifle my babbling.
He peers down at the blankets, a swirl of something playing in his mind. “I told you I killed a man tonight and you offer me a place to stay.” It’s not formed as a question, but rather a statement of what the hell is wrong with you.
I meet his ungodly stare. “Hush. I’ve been raped dozens of times by the same vicious monster. You can tell me that you’ve killed thousands of men, and I’d still feel the safest with you.”
He goes completely still, fury lacing his expression. “You shouldn’t be so trusting of me.”
“Probably. But it’s too late for that.” I blink away before saying, “Stay. Please. You should rest and whatever happened tonight, try to forget about it for a while.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep. But I will take you up on the offer to stay. At least until I’m in the right mindset.”
I nod. “Would you like some tea?” It’s the only thing I can offer him, making me feel a little less useless.
“No. Thank you. Is it all right if I want to be alone?”
Embarrassment floods my cheeks. “Of course. Yeah. That’s silly to even ask. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” I couldn’t have gotten away fast enough, but when I turn to leave, his hand clamps onto my arm. My body doesn’t flinch. It does, however, hum alive.
“Thank you, Danika.” There it is. The sound of my name I can listen to forever.
“You’re welcome.”
He lets go and I already miss his touch.
At the doorway, I stop, seeing him set up the sofa with the blankets.
“Hey, Hush.” He looks up, more life inside him.
“If you ever want to talk, I’m a great listener.
And about tonight, you can trust me to keep your secret.
” I know whoever’s life he ended couldn’t have been a good man regardless.
But I can’t help but get a twinge of jealousy wondering who the mystery woman is.
Sick and twisted considering she obviously needed his help in some way.
But then it hits me, what if the woman is her…
“Liem.”
I freeze, holding tightly onto the half-closed door. “What?” I turn toward him.
“Call me, Liem.”
My heart’s in my throat.
Liem.
His name is beautiful, and I get the privilege of knowing it.
I flash him with a smile. “Goodnight… Liem.”
Before closing my door, we watch each other with something stronger than ever. Hell, he told me his real name, told me to call him by his real name. No more club nickname. That must count for something.
After pacing around the bedroom for God knows how long, I decide to slink into the bathroom and scrub away the blood from Liem’s clothes.
I figure he’d want them to be cleaned and stripped of any horrible memory of last night.
I try not to think about what happened and only worry about getting this blood out of his jeans.
It takes a hot minute, and my bathtub looks like a bloodbath, but I’ve managed to get them back to normal.
I was gentler with his club cut, being sure to place it nicely over the tub.
I look down and realize I’m covered in red stains from the cleaning. Dried blood smeared on my hands and arms.
Guess I’m getting a shower.