The bus is quiet and the atmosphere is thick with happiness. Despite my assurance, it’s hard to stay awake when all I want to do is fall asleep in Keenan’s arms. His grip tightens on me when the bus jostles before relaxing again.
“We’re almost at the house,” Keeva whispers in my ear suddenly, and I manage to crack my eyes open. Keenan snores very lightly against my cheek, and a small smile tugs at my lips. I nod at her in thanks as she smiles warmly. “I’m glad you were able to shelve your worries. I know you were concerned about Keenan’s shoulder.”
“I’m glad you convinced me not to do something else,” I murmur cautiously. Keeva’s eyes light up happily. “You were right. It’s more important to inch forward steadily than try to take big, unsteady leaps.”
Keeva nods gracefully and stands up as the bus comes to a complete stop. The hiss of the brakes changes the atmosphere from satisfied to exhausted. Today was long, and I shuffle slightly to shake Keenan awake. He blinks, hiding a yawn in my shoulder and rubbing his face against my shirt.
The night is darker outside his home despite the lights lining the narrow pathway leading to the house. Everyone heads inside, no discussion needed on where we’ll be sleeping tonight. Keenan and I head straight for the stairs and go to his bedroom, and my tiredness catches up with me. I yawn, and he wraps his arms around me heavily with a groan.
“Do we shower now?” he grumbles, and I nod against his chest. Keenan sighs. “I don’t know if I have the energy.”
“You’ll sleep even better not covered in sweat and grime,” I inform him, and Keenan grunts in acknowledgment before we walk to his en-suite bathroom. I look around at the luxury that now surrounds him. The glittering handles on the cabinets and clean tiles on the floor. “Does it make you uncomfortable still?”
“I don’t know anymore. I’m adjusting.” His tone portrays his awkwardness as he pulls his shirt off with sluggish movements. “All this stuff . . . is a lot. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to the simplicity of what my life once was, but there’s nothing to go back to anymore. Everything is different.”
Keenan grips his hurt shoulder, his scar standing out horrifically against his natural complexion. I purse my lips thinly and kick off my sneakers, following his lead. He rolls his arm and winces, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m not the same person I was before I got shot. That’s a fact I can’t ignore. I can either accept it . . . or . . . there’s no other option. I have to deal with it.”
“It hasn’t been very long, Keenan. You’ll get the hang of it,” I reassure him, and he cracks a smirk at me that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s only smirking because it’s polite. He doesn’t believe a word of what I just said to him. Slipping around him, I turn on the shower to hotter than hot, and he sniffles tiredly. “I’ll help you with whatever you need.”
“I appreciate it, but,” Keenan hesitates, and I twist to look at him as a war rages on his face, “this is something I have to do by myself. I’m not so weak now that I can’t be trusted with making decisions. It’ll just take time, maybe more time than I have, but the struggle makes days like today all the better.”
I don’t say anything as I discard my dirty, sweat-crusted clothes. Keenan strips, his movements heavy and slow. I stick my hand into the shower before turning down the heat slightly. He holds out his hand for me, and my heart flutters as I take it. Helping me into the shower, he follows swiftly to very carefully run his hands through my hair. I close my eyes.
The hot water eases the slight ache gripping my muscles from today. Streams of warmth flow down my body, and I lean back into Keenan’s palms. “That feels amazing.” Warmth coils in my gut, and I revel in the way he’s making me feel.
“Good, because I can’t find the energy for more,” he teases, and I chuff a giggle as he kneads my scalp tenderly. Squeezing shampoo into my hair, his diligence soothes me. It’s beautiful, the way he touches me. “I’m surprised I’m still standing, honestly.”
“We’ll be quick,” I declare before reaching for the bar of soap to lather up a washcloth I didn’t notice Keenan grab. His hands leave my hair, and I turn around to wipe his chest and arms. Helping rinse my hair, there’s nothing better than this moment as steam creates an impenetrable boundary around us.
Just as I promised, we clean up quickly and leave the shower. I slip on a pair of Keenan’s boxers and crawl into his bed to groan. I know if I close my eyes, I won’t open them again, and I roll onto my back to watch him. Keenan has both of our phones in his hands, and I arch a brow quizzically as he waves mine.
“You have a text from your mom,” he says wonderingly, and I tense, my breath catching in my throat. I sit up, and Keenan tosses my phone at me to sit on the foot of the bed. “It just says to call her.”
“Call her? For what?” I question, but he just shakes his head. I unlock my phone swiftly and sit up with a groan. “I wonder what it’s about.”
“It’s your mother, so it’s probably about the holidays,” Keenan says grimly, and I suck in a sharp breath in alarm. I almost laugh, though. He’s known me for so long that he knows my mother’s habits.
Christmas! Fuck, I’ve been so distracted I forgot that the holidays are coming up.
“Oh, Christ,” I blurt out as I look over at him uncertainly. “Do I call her back?”
“Aren’t you exhausted?” He cackles lightly.
“Well, yeah.”
“Not tonight. Just leave it so we can go to sleep. Don’t want to ruin a great day.” Keenan decides for me, and relief slumps my shoulders. I stretch to set my phone on the nightstand, and he throws himself up the length of the bed. Powerful arms wrap around me, the distinctive smell of sandalwood hitting me, comforting me as we snuggle together.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
KEENAN
“Knock, knock.” I frown as Delilah jumps slightly, apprehension masking her face. Her office is a complete mess, and I scan the piles of papers on her desk. “Everything okay?”
“What? Yes, it’s fine. I’m just . . . reorganizing. What’re you doing here?” But as she poses her question, realization crosses her expression. “Oh, crap. We’re having lunch together. I forgot. I’ve been so busy all morning.”
“No, it’s fine. You’ve just been working so hard we’ve hardly seen each other in a while, and I was worried when I didn’t hear from you this morning,” I reply hastily, and Delilah cups her forehead with her palm in exasperation. “We can go to dinner tonight instead if that works better?” I know she’s working hard here, but man, I miss my girlfriend.
“I don’t know what time I’ll be out,” Delilah confesses, almost ashamedly, and I purse my lips thinly. Suspicion rises in my throat, but I don’t press her. What good will it do? She’s clearly having a rough time if the state of her office is an indicator. “Tomorrow? I’ll come in late, and we can have breakfast together.”
