Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Audra woke in spurts. The room was so dark and quiet, she would drift back to sleep, catch herself snoring, wake up, change position, and drift back to sleep again.
Her chest ached from sleeping face-down at some point, and the lumps in the mattress proved this wasn’t her bed.
But, still, she felt safe. Safer than she’d felt in years, and especially these past several weeks.
Thanks to Gage. He was here, watching over her. She should wonder how he’d found her. Should worry why he’d found her. But those were worries for later. Her body and soul needed healing sleep, and she would allow it. Because she trusted Gage would keep her safe.
So she drifted back to sleep once more.
When she awoke again. The room was brighter, a little strip of sunlight eking past the window curtains.
Maybe morning. Maybe afternoon. Hard to say, but she was entirely awake this time.
Her body fairly vibrated with an energy she hadn’t enjoyed in weeks.
Not since her morning romp in the boardroom with Gage.
She’d walked away that day, her body replete and ready to take on the world, and her mind peaceful and optimistic.
Apparently, a good night’s sleep was nearly as good as mind-blowing sex.
She hadn’t known either until Gage Austin entered her life.
“How ya feeling?” Gage’s question, spoken in a voice as smooth as aged bourbon, made her tingle all over.
She could claim that was part of the healing process, but that would be a lie.
His voice was the stuff of her midnight fantasies, and she’d pleasured herself many times over the years to the memories of their brief worktime small talk.
She’d dreamed of the fireworks that would happen if she ever got him in her bedroom.
Well, here he was. In her bedroom. And she was in no physical or emotional position to do anything about it. There’d be no fireworks.
Disappointment sullied the lovely morning.
Rather than focus on that, she rallied around the simple fact he was here.
She’d been alone this entire journey, so his company was welcome.
The rustle of movement pulled her attention to where he sat near the window, the rickety chair barely holding his powerful form.
The soft light bathed him in a glow on one side, while the other was still in shadow.
Like he was half angel and half demon. Audra snickered at her rampant imagination.
She pushed to a sitting position, her chest muscles tender, poor civilian casualties in her war against cancer.
She didn’t dare let on to Gage that anything was wrong, so she quickly backed up against the rickety headboard.
“I’m okay, Gage. How are you? Did you sleep at all?
How long have I been asleep? Why are you—”
He stopped her flow of questions with a raised hand and a shake of his head.
“Sleep, then bathe, then eat. Then answers. Remember?” He stood and walked to the door, turning back to her when he grasped the doorknob.
“I’ll get food while you shower. I can’t guarantee anything, but is there something you want? ”
You. She bit back the response. Yes, she still desired him, but sex so soon after her treatment, when her saggy, lumpy boobs were so…
undesirable? And when she was trying to complete her mission?
Maybe not the best timing. Plus, would he even want her now?
Probably not. One boardroom affair did not ensure he wanted more, especially when her breasts were now so utterly misshapen.
And what loyal soldier wanted a lover who worked against his government?
She shrugged, forcing her brain to contemplate more pleasant topics, such as a hot shower and food. “I’m up for anything. The more home-cooked, the better.”
“Heavy on the meat. No convenience store snacks. Got it.” He nodded, his half-smile lopsided and mocking the severity of his high-and-tight buzz cut streaked with silver.
“And if salad is the only option, I’m a blue cheese dressing kind of gal.”
He nodded again, his smile bigger. “No salad. Got it.” He stepped out into the day, but turned back as if he’d forgotten something. “I promise I’ll be back. Please… Please don’t run away again.”
Audra nodded. When he shut the door, she counted slowly to fifty.
Then pulled her bag from under the covers and dug around for the little clicker device she carried.
It was barely the size of a watch battery, and she’d sewn it years ago into the lining of her large purse which functioned as her bugout bag.
Better that than to risk it falling out when she needed it.
Like now. She found it in the corner of a seam and pressed it until it clicked twice.
Then she tucked the micro-drive under the mattress, her eyes closed so she didn’t see what else might there.
Food crumbs, dead bugs, used condoms, drug paraphernalia.
She tried not to imagine it lest she gross herself out too much to eat.
Then she marched straight to the bathroom. But hesitated when it was time to remove her shirt for a shower.
She’d seen her reflection in the mirror since her treatment.
Many times. Yet each time broke her heart.
Like looking at a deformed stranger, empathy welling up for their obvious struggle, then the horror which comes with realizing that stranger in the mirror…
was her. The fact made no sense because the only thing that had changed about her were her breasts, but the disturbing reflection was a body so foreign to what she had known for over three decades, she almost didn’t recognize herself.
Lifting her shirt so the fabric didn’t brush against her breasts—a weird habit she’d developed, as if doing so could keep her body safe from more cancer—she tossed it to the floor and stared at the woman in the mirror.
The hotel mirror was old, the reflective surface muddied with dark spots and spiderweb cracks, thus distorting the reflection. Probably for the best.
For their diminutive size, her tits had caused her a lot of trouble recently.
She’d declined reconstruction, and the opportunity to go even bigger.
Her life wasn’t conducive to having relationships, especially romantic ones, so there was little incentive to bother with bigger breasts.
She’d had an erratic string of hookups over the years, but after that morning with Gage, the thought of a one-night-stand with some random match from a dating app lost all its shine.
So, suffer the reconstruction? No thanks.
That choice had been made before she’d seen the result of treatment.
Where there had once been two small, but pert and firm breasts were now two wrinkled flaps of skin.
Distorted and not even the same size because one had a greater amount of cancer cells to remove, including a portion of one areola.
She looked like someone had haphazardly spooned tapioca pudding into used bags and taped them to her chest.
Dammit, it was bad enough she had to contend with her monthly flow and the dark chin hairs that came with being a woman in her forties. Now, she had shitty boobs to boot. Next up would be menopause and the theme park of fun that came with that.
Her doctor had assured her the fatty tissue and milk lobules still in her breasts would eventually settle back into a more uniform shape.
Then again, he’d also told her the chemo-cocktail would kill all her cancer cells and she’d have no side effects.
Wrong; she’d vomited for a week like a pregnant woman in the throes of morning sickness.
A choked sob broke from her throat. Not that she necessarily missed her breasts…
they’d been too small to entice romantic attention and any sexual manipulation had left her a little meh in the arousal department.
Too tiny to snag a date with and too unresponsive to enjoy.
But her breasts been a part of her—of her self-image—for so long, her reflection was unfamiliar with their absence.
She would have denied ever defining herself just by the status of her mammaries.
She’d never had children to nurse from them.
Never had a husband to dote on them. Yet here she stood, the most external symbol of her femininity mangled and deformed.
Without them, she was merely… half a woman.
A ghost of a woman. A shell of a person.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. The image in the mirror was a complete stranger. A body could heal, but how did a person recover from losing their own sense of self?
Had Gage gone through this when he’d lost his leg in battle?
For the longest time, she stood and stared at the reflection of her body, waiting for a sense of acceptance, a feeling of normalcy, to slide into place. As if merely a night of weird dreams had her off-kilter, not the fact that her whole life was one big clusterfuck. One big SNAFU.
Her fingertips gently traced her breasts, from the nipples outward. She felt the touch on her skin, but her fingertips recoiled at the sensation of her bumpy, withered tits.
Audra dropped her hands, too overwrought to go any further.
She plopped down on the edge of the tub, pushing the door closed with her foot in case Gage returned.
He’d already seen her distraught and crying; he didn’t need to walk in on more of the same.
Wrapping her arms around her upper body with as much care as she could, as if treating her chest like delicate glass would make its misshapen, withered state go away, she gently rocked.
Rocked and cried. Anguish flooding her until she nearly crumbled into a puddle of misery.
God, she hated this. Hated her body for betraying her.
Hating knowing it was only a matter of time before she’d have to go through a similar treatment.
Cancer, having once reared its ugly head, opened the floodgate for more.
She’d have to undergo regular tests to find where and when more cancer might appear.
She’d have to suffer more chemo and radiation, living her life as a genetic oddity.
Her mission had mandated she keep to herself for the past decade.
Cancer would dictate she continue that lonely existence.
As a cyborg, Gage had necessarily experienced the same isolation. Did he ever regret it?
She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. So much for the rejuvenation of a good night’s sleep. The energy and hopefulness she’d woken with had splintered the moment she’d seen her reflection.
“Audra, are you okay?”
Gage’s voice, soft with concern yet still a deep, sexy rumble, jerked her out of her self-pity party. She’d wasted the time he’d given her. Squandered that solitude on something she couldn’t control.
“I’m okay, Gage.” Her voice quavered with emotion, but hopefully he would be gentleman enough not to call her on it. “I just got distracted and haven’t gotten to the shower yet.”
A soft scratch from the other side of the door, like calloused fingers stroking the cheap wood. His voice soothed her anguish. “Take a shower, beautiful. And then come eat. I promise things won’t seem so overwhelming once you’ve taken care of your physical needs.”
Her physical needs. Like personal hygiene and sustenance.
It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been the answer to her carnal physical needs.
She’d trusted him to see to her safety needs last night.
Maybe he’d stick around long enough to help her with more than her basic needs.
But that led to wondering why he was here in the first place.
Her gut assured she wouldn’t like the answer.
“Audra, I’ll put your bag and towels right outside this door. Then I’ll leave the room and hang around outside so you can get ready without being stuck in that tiny bathroom.
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat and stood. “Give me about ten minutes?”
“Take your time, beautiful.”
Something heavy bumped against the door near the floor. Her bag, no doubt. Then there were sounds of other rustling near the beds, and the door opening and closing. She’d missed that sound when he had returned, no doubt too caught up in her emotional outburst.
Because he’d returned, that meant there was food out there waiting for her. Her stomach rumbled at the thought. It had been nearly a day since she’d eaten. No wonder she was so emotionally overwrought; she was absolutely hangry.
Chuckling at herself, the promise of clean hair, food, and some time with Gage Austin buoying her spirits, she grabbed her bag, unpacked the thumb-sized amenity soap, and turned the shower temperature to Ta-Ta to Cancer Hot.