I grin. The woman is nuts.
I’m about to soak in the bath for a little while, so I’ll text you tomorrow.
I lean against the counter and wait for her to reply.
You better. It’s quiet around here without you.
I shake my head and send her a heart emoji before putting my phone down just as Midas walks back in.
He takes in the phone, then me, and frowns. “Problem?”
“No, just Del checking in.”
“Ah, okay. Well, your bath is ready. I’ll make you some tea and bring it in. Sunshine said it’s good for settling the stomach.”
I grin at the mention of Sunshine. She refused to let me pull away, sending me random texts of the weirdest shit along with updates about her pregnancy, how Alex was doing, and how Conan is getting on with chemo. She might not have been able to visit, but I’m sure not holding it against her when she barely has time to breathe right now.
“The ginger one, right? She told me about it, too. It’s pretty good.”
“You keep in touch with Sunshine, but not the others?” His question is free of judgment, which is the only reason I answer.
“She refuses to leave me to wallow. Plus, I think I’m a healthy distraction for her right now.”
“I get that. Maybe I can drive you up there for a visit sometime. It’s been a while since she’s been to the clubhouse, well, Raven Souls, at least. I know they go to Carnage more often because Conan gets treatment right around the corner from them.”
“I know. She worries you guys will think she’s picking favorites, but that hospital has the best oncology doctor in the country working there right now, and Conan is responding well to treatment from what I can gather.”
“Like I said, we get it. Besides, Blade and Inigo regularly make the trip down. Even King comes.”
“Good.” I bite my lip, not knowing what else to say. There never used to be these awkward moments of silence between us, but now it’s hard to fill in the blanks without hitting on touchy subjects, so I just stop talking.
“Right, I’ll just go take that bath now.”
“And I’ll make your tea,” he says quietly.
I feel my shoulders drop as I walk past him, feeling guilty but unsure why. Maybe he can see the writing on the wall. I don’t want to hurt him. I didn’t get into this so we could play tit for tat, but I feel that’s destined to happen.
Midas brings me tea, his eyes dipping first to my breasts on display, to the swell of my stomach, which is mostly hidden by the water.
He turns and leaves without a word, almost as if he doesn’t trust himself to stay. I close my eyes and lean back, tired of analyzing and over-analyzing everything. Truth is, I have very little control over what I can and can’t do right now. Midas is right in the sense that I’m safer here than out there on my own, and it’s not a story he’s made up to get me here. I can clearly picture the state of my apartment and feel the icy tendrils of fear when I think about someone standing over me while I slept. I shiver at the thought and shake it away. I was lucky. If that guy wanted to hurt me, he could have, and I’d have been none the wiser until the attack had begun.
It’s just hard being back under someone’s control. For the first time in my life, I felt free. Even though it was hard, I felt a sense of accomplishment at the end of each day. I’d naivelythought nobody could take that away from me, but the fates decided to intervene once more, like my whole life is some cosmic joke. Now I feel like the odd man out again, living on the fringes of someone else’s life, where they decide whether I can stay or go.
With a sigh, I sit up and wash myself, noting belatedly that my favorite toiletries line the edge of the bathtub. I haven’t bought these brands for a while because I couldn’t afford them. Finding out that Midas didn’t just buy them for me, but remembered my favorites, stirs something inside me that feels a lot like hope and maybe a little like stupidity. If I’m going to let myself be swayed by a handful of toiletries, I’m going to be screwed come the end of my time here. Literally and figuratively.
I sip my tea, contemplating how to keep myself away from Midas when he walks back in with a large bath towel in his hands. I reach out to take it from him, but he shakes it out and holds it open for me.
“I can manage, Midas,” I tell him, keeping my voice neutral because I’m not in the mood for a fight.
“I know, but I don’t want you to slip. This way, you can hold on to my shoulder.” He looks away to give me the illusion of privacy, but when I stand up and place my hand on his arm for support, my eyes clash with his in the mirror. His expression shows zero remorse as he devours me. I step out and sigh in relief when he wraps the towel around me and starts patting me dry.
Before he gets too carried away, I wrap my arms around myself and hold the towel in place. He takes a step back, his jeans doing nothing to hide how hard he is.
“I put something on the bed for you to wear. I’ll meet you in the living room. Food should be here any minute.”
“Okay.”
I wait until he’s gone before I dry myself properly, feeling more confused than anything. Yes, he’s always had these sweet moments. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with the man if he was an asshole all the time. But this is a whole other side of him that’s either an act to get me to comply with what he wants or something he deliberately withheld from me before. I’m not sure which scenario hurts less.
