EMBER
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I step out of the vehicle, still holding onto Harley, and we walk to my front door.
Harley pulls a key out of his pocket and slides it into the lock.
He pushes the door open with one hand and pulls me in.
I don’t even know what time it is, but it’s definitely late at night.
The light over the oven shines into the living room.
I stop and find Atlas on the couch, curled up with my favorite throw blanket, and I can just barely make out that she’s wearing my Forks, Washington hoodie.
The sight of her pushes the tears over, and they stream down my face.
I almost head to bed, but Harley stops me. “Wake her up,” he says softly. “She’ll rest better knowing you’re home and safe.”
He’s right.
I walk over and I stroke her face, bending to kiss her on the cheek. She lets out a soft sigh and starts mumbling words I can’t understand.
“Asher?” She finally mumbles something I can understand.
“He’s still asleep,” I say quietly. The moment she hears my voice, her eyes shoot open, and she makes direct eye contact, jumping up from her lying position on the couch.
“Ember!” she howls, pulling me down into her, crushing me in a hug.
I found so much comfort in Harley holding me, but absolutely nothing will ever amount to the comfort of a hug you get from your baby sister. We sit and hold each other, neither of us letting the other loose as we cry.
“Are you okay, Em?” Atlas asks me, worry pulling her eyebrows together at the bridge of her nose.
I sit for a minute, debating how I want to answer her. I don’t want her to worry, but I’m tired of pretending. “I’m not okay, and I don’t know when I will be, but I know I have you guys, and that’s all I really need.” I pull her in for one more big hug. “Family and time.”
Harley comes into the living room from down the hall. He’s dressed down, in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. “Ready to get some sleep, or are you staying out here?” he asks me, seeing Atlas and I still holding each other.
“Now that I know you’re home and you’re safe,” Atlas says, standing, “I’m going to crawl into bed with Aria and Asher and hold them. This pregnancy is taking the life out of me.” She gives me a soft smile and another bear hug before squeezing my arm and heading down the hall to the guest room.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want one, but I can run you a bath?” Harley says with a question in his voice. I can see him trying to be gentle with me, and my heart swells knowing that I don’t have to fake it. He’s going to make sure I make it no matter what.
“I think just a quick shower tonight, just to wash everything off, and then I want to go to bed,” I tell him, trying my best to show how much I appreciate him with my facial expressions alone.
Walking into my bedroom almost feels strange. I can’t place why, but something about it just makes my stomach turn. I stand at the doorway of my bathroom and watch as Harley leans into the shower to turn it on, making sure it’s the perfect temperature.
Once he’s happy with how hot the water is, he turns to me. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” He walks out, pulling the door closed, giving me time for myself. I hear the floor creak and the bedroom door closes softly.
I take a deep breath and turn towards the mirror. I knew it would be bad because of the soreness of my body. I’m still wearing the sweats and hoodie, but as I begin removing them, my heart breaks more and more with each new bite or bruise I see painted on my skin.
Once I am completely naked, I stare at myself and take everything in. Finally, I head into the shower, all of the steam rolling out when I open the door. I step in, and the hot water stings the cuts. I stand under the hot water, tipping my head back and closing my eyes.
I stand there a moment, waiting for the water to soothe my aches and pains. I don’t move for what seems like forever, constantly willing myself to wash my body and hair. I know it will make me feel better, but I feel frozen in this spot.
I don’t even realize Harley has come into the bathroom until he’s standing in front of me, fully clothed, wiping my face.
I think I’m crying, but I thought I had cried all my tears out already.
I can barely hear him talking to me in a hushed tone before my legs give out. Harley catches me without hesitation.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I hear him tell me, lowering to the shower floor with me. He cradles my head into his chest. “Let me wash your hair, and I can get your washcloth for you.”
I nod my head, giving him the go ahead. “You can take your clothes off,” I tell him.
“I don’t mind,” he says as he looks down at me. “I just want to take care of you.”
“I’m not scared of you, Harley,” I say. He keeps eye contact, and finally stands and strips his clothes off, throwing them in a pile outside of the shower.
Harley lifts me from the ground, setting me on the built-in shower bench.
“If you sit cross-legged, I’ll stand behind you and wash your hair,” he says softly.
I bend my knees and turn my body, wrapping my arms around my legs, and feel Harley stand behind me.
He uses the showerhead and massages my scalp, then lathers my hair, first with shampoo, and then with conditioner.
While he lets the conditioner set, I feel the washrag glide across my back.
His touch is the lightest it's ever been, careful not to hurt me.
After he’s gently washed my body, he rinses out my hair. I lean my head back and relax as he runs his fingers through my wet hair.
“I’m going to jump out and go get your towel, okay?
” He plants a kiss on my forehead. He steps out and grabs a towel, then walks out of the bathroom.
I stand there, take a deep breath, and then clean all of my intimate spaces Harley hadn’t wanted to impose on, despite me assuring him I’m not afraid of him.
Harley comes back into the bathroom, and I turn the shower off.
I push the door open and see he’s got a black pair of sweats on, water beads still on his chest. He has a towel open, ready for me to step into it.
I walk into him and turn around, putting my back to his chest. He wraps the towel around my shoulders, and I’m pleasantly surprised by the warmth that envelopes me. “Thank you,” I whisper as he holds me.
We stand like this for a few more minutes.
“I’m gonna grab your t-shirt and panties, do you want shorts?” he asks me.
“No, just the others will do,” I tell him. I stand there, eyes closed, hearing the love of my life rifle through my drawers, doing everything he can to be here to help me.
He comes back in, holding my favorite t-shirt and a pair of seamless panties. “Is this okay?” he asks in such a hopeful tone.
Right before I’m about to answer him, I change my mind. “Actually, do you have an extra t-shirt of yours?” I ask him, wanting to drown in his smell. He makes me feel safe and loved.
He cracks a smile. “Be right back, princess,” he says. Then he makes a mad dash out of the bathroom.
By the time he zooms back in, I’ve dried my body off and pulled my panties on. He pulls a grungy, vintage white t-shirt over my head, and wraps his arms around me again.
“Sit on the edge of the bathtub and I’ll dry your hair,” he tells me.
I grab my brush from my drawer and comb through my wet strands. He turns the hair dryer on high and uses the brush to dry my hair, like they do in the salon.