Chapter 52 #2
I nod, eyes still shut as my brow furrows. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Zac?”
The sweet voice has my eyes fluttering open. Emilia stands in the doorway, clutching a large blue bowl.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Jordan says, giving me a small smile as he stands. “It’s good to have you back.” He gently squeezes Emilia’s shoulder as he leaves, and she smiles at him before turning to me.
“You don’t have to stand in the doorway,” I say.
“I know,” she murmurs, stepping inside. “I just… can’t believe you’re here.”
“I’m not that easy to kill off,” I say.
She sits beside me, her brows pinching. “Don’t joke. You’re not invincible.”
“I am.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, placing the bowl on the drawers and removing a sodden cloth.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re making a mess of my bedsheets,” she replies, the corner of her lips twitching.
Slowly, she lowers the cloth to my arm. The contact makes me flinch, the water dribbling into every scratch and wound.
She immediately pulls back, her lips pursed, but I shake my head, gesturing for her to continue.
“Hurry up and get it done,” I murmur. “So that I can save my dick from your wrath.”
She blinks at me. “Excuse me?”
“Isn’t that what you threatened me with?” I close my eyes and smile at the memory of her fierce, snide comments. “If I ever came into this room? Your room. Something about what’s yours, not being mine…”
The cloth pauses on my forearm. “You were the one who said we weren’t married.”
“You don’t want that either.”
She’s quiet for a beat, but then the cloth resumes wiping my tender skin. “No,” she says softly.
My entire arm singes with pain as every nerve is wiped, every section cleaned. Flashes of horror, of dark, shadowed memories flash through my head.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. I just grit my teeth, hands curling into fists as she reaches the lacerations where the cuffs were. It’s a thousand needles, pricking at my skin, stirring up every layer of hell.
“This isn’t how I thought I’d end up in your bed.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her hands don’t falter. She curls a finger around mine, gently turning my arm. “Don’t get used to it,” she murmurs, a familiar lightness in her tone. “As soon as you can, you’ll be out of it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I mutter, opening my eyes.
Her gaze lifts, meeting mine. The blue of her eyes is more inviting than the sea in the damn Maldives, and ten times more gorgeous. It’s warm and fierce at the same time, pulling me in, and I can’t think of what to say next. Her lips part at my words.
“It’s too comfy,” I manage, my voice rough.
She lets out a soft, breathy laugh, eyes glinting as she returns to her work. And I can’t stop staring at the softness of her jaw, the plumpness of her bottom lip, the wavy hair falling over her shoulder; all of it distracting me from what she’s doing.
Finally, she stops, lifting the cloth to hover above my face.
She hesitates for only a moment before lowering it to my stubbled cheek.
She doesn’t meet my eye, but her fingers slip beneath the cloth every few moments, and the contact lingers, a warmth that makes my body remember things I didn’t even know it still could.
Too soon, she’s done.
“It’s better than it was,” she says softly. “Jordan said he’ll help you shower tomorrow—”
“I don’t need help.” The sharp words burst through my lips.
“Of course not,” she mutters under her breath, pulling back, her lips pursing.
“Alright, I’ll go now,” I say hoarsely. “The sofa is—”
“No. Stop! Lie back down.” She shakes her head and dumps the cloth back into the bowl. “You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re acting like an idiot,” she snaps.
“I’m respecting your wishes. This is your room—”
“Fucking hell. Give it a rest—” Something snaps inside me. Reckless and stupid, my hand shoots out, curling around the back of her neck, tugging her closer.
“Going back on your words now, Emilia?” I murmur.
Her eyes widen, startled, a flicker of defiance mixing with something unreadable. I hear her breath catch. “Stop it, you’re hurting yourself.”
“I’m not.” I scoff, though the motion makes a sharp kernel of pain erupt beneath my ribs. She rolls her eyes, unimpressed.
“Why are your shoulders so tense, then? Why did you just flinch?”
“Fuck, you’re so annoying.”
“So are you.”
I let out a low laugh, before more words slip out, unfiltered in my exhausted state. “I don’t know why I fucking missed you.” My chest instantly lurches, hand dropping from her neck as I realise what I’ve said.
Her eyes widen, surprise softening the attitude within. “You did?”
My jaw tightens. I force a smirk. “Unfortunately.”
A small, uncertain smile pulls at her lips. “I missed you, too,” she whispers.
I don’t reply. There’s nothing to say. It doesn’t change anything. It can’t.
I have a whole other life she isn’t part of.
The air thickens, and she straightens, her smile dropping. “You need to rest,” she says.
My eyes follow as she stands, grabbing the bowl and leaving the room without another glance.
My eyes droop, and I pass out before I imagine she’s even reached the bottom step.
My slumber is restless and fleeting, flashes of waterboarding, of deafening noise, of my stomach growling, of whipping and force feeding, all wrenching me awake in a cold sweat.
Jordan and Kieran are there each time, reassuring me that I’m not there, over and over again.
That it’s over.
But it’s not fucking over. I’ll never be the same again.