To his credit, he makes a valiant effort at deciphering my garbled words. “Uh. Something about conkers?”
I close my mouth and point. “Do I still have monster teeth? Fangs?”
“You do.” He’s still stroking my stomach. When my face falls, his lip twitches. “You’ll do great with steak, though.”
For a moment, I blink at his matter-of-fact words. The snort of amusement that slips out takes us both by surprise. “Guess I will.”
The more I talk, the more aware I feel. And as I glance down, my lip twists in disgust. “I need to shower.”
It feels as if a year’s worth of filth coats my skin. The urge becomes nearly overwhelming, and I scramble off Jake’s lap. He and Max both rise with me.
I look between them. My cheeks heat. “Ah. Is this something – have you been…?”
“No.” Max’s eyes widen. “God, no, Ken. Not without your permission.”
“The Center staff come in regularly,” Jake says softly. “They looked after you. We tried to do as much as we could without invading your privacy.”
I can feel Theo’s eyes on me. Avoiding his gaze, I shuffle back, toward the doorway. “So you won’t look?”
Both of them shake their heads.
“Want us to leave?” Max offers. “We can step out.”
“No.” It slips out a little too quickly, and I flap my hand. “Just… stay.”
Okay.
This isn’t the bathroom I saw in the brochure. That one had tiles, and a cute fluffy mat.
This one smells like steel and cheap bleach. A bit like death, if I had to think about it. Chemicals and hopelessness. I eye the bolted-down toilet warily, trying not to think about my bathroom arrangements for the last year.
Whoever emptied that out, I’m sorry. They probably don’t pay you enough.
Moving on from that little humiliation, I spend a few minutes fixing myself up, glancing at the door every few seconds. Something in my chest twists. An unhappy sound echoes in my throat, and I frown, sucking that particular noise back down.
I… don’t like them being out of sight.
Grow up, Kennedy.
Biting my lip, I wash my hands and assess the bath. There’s no shower, only a steel tub, and I stare at it for a minute. Longer.
“Ken?” Jumping, I turn. Jake glances through the open doorway. His blue eyes seem to see a little too much when they land on me, softening. “You want some help?”
My nod is slow. I watch as he moves inside. “How did you know?”
“Theo,” he murmurs. Ducking past me, he flicks on the faucet. “He… felt something. Asked me to check.”
Oh.My cheeks flare. “Right. The bitemark.”
The unwanted, forced half-bonding mark.
Look at us, locked in a never-ending trauma cycle.
Jake glances at me. “Don’t you worry about it. He’s fine, Ken. He’s just worried about you.”
I bite down on my lip, hugging my arms as the tub starts to fill. “This all feels… surreal.”
“I bet,” he says softly, not looking at me. He dips his finger in the water, swilling it to test the temperature. His words are a little too casual. “Want to talk about it?”
