When we pull up outside of my apartment, I don’t bother waiting for him to open the door for me. I step out of the car, and the cold breeze hits me. Thankfully, I still have his shirt on.
He strides up to the building’s entrance and, producing a key from somewhere, unlocks the door, then waits for me to follow. I’m covered in dirt, and I didn’t notice until now that my shoes are missing.
I try not to let the emotions explode out of me, even though they’re bubbling just below the surface. My best friend, one of the only people I trusted in this world, is no longer with me. And it’s all thanks to a coward of a man who, if he weren’t already dead, I would find the worst way to make him suffer before he dies. Believe me, I understand that’s wrong on so many levels, but when someone is as evil as he is, I think they deserve to die. And truth be told, I’m glad he’s not breathing the same air as me anymore.
Entering my apartment, Arlo doesn’t wait for instructions.
“Sit,” he says. “I have someone coming to look at your arm, and then we can shower.”
A knock sounds on the door, and I jump.
He notices and touches me ever so softly. “It’s just the doctor for your arm.” He waits for me to nod my head before he walks off and lets someone in. The man is dressed in blue scrubs as if he has just come directly from the hospital. He doesn’t ask questions as Arlo tells him where the problem is, although I am pretty sure it’s obvious. I stare at Arlo as he starts to work on my arm. He watches me back with curious eyes until the doctor stands, and Arlo walks him out. Once the door is shut, I hear him lock it before he kicks off his shoes, then heads straight through my bedroom and into my bathroom, where he immediately starts the shower. Then he drops his pants, and I can’t look away.
At first, I’m hesitant, but then his hands find the hem of his shirt, and he gently slips it off me before he unzips the back of my skirt and pulls it down, along with my panties.
“Have you ever cared for someone before?” I ask, watching his every move, from the way his hair shifts with each movement to the way his hands grip my clothes before he drops them to the floor.
“I have never, and will never again, care for a living soul the way I care for you right now,” he whispers.
And I believe him.
I hate that I believe him, but I do.
He turns me around and then directs me into the shower with a hand on the small of my back. Stepping in under the hot water, he follows behind me and then shuts the door.
I look down and see the dirt washing off my body and swirling down the drain. It’s a luxury, when you think about it, to be able to stand in the shower and wash yourself clean. I know that sounds unbelievable, but Delaney will never again be able to do something as simple as rinsing the dirt off her skin.
Actually, I don’t know what will happen to the dirt on her. Will they wash her clean? These are strange thoughts to have, but my mind is having a hard time wrapping around what happened.
“Stop,” Arlo softly orders as he rubs his soapy hands on my back. “You couldn’t have done anything differently. You did what a good friend would do, and we found her.”
“We only found her because he took me,” I reply, not bothering to move from under the water.
“No, we actually had a lead on him before that. We weren’t aware he had you.”
“You drove out there to help her?” That doesn’t seem like something he would typically do.
“I did. Now, let’s clean you up so we can go to bed. We will have to arrange things tomorrow.” Just then, his phone beeps. “That’s probably Boston. He plans to have them both found tonight so you don’t have to wait around. You can grieve without having to hide it.”
“I would never have hidden it anyway,” I tell him honestly.
“You can’t tell Sebastian. You can’t tell him what happened,” he insists.
I take a deep breath before I say, “They would kill me, wouldn’t they?” A shiver runs through my body, even just thinking about it.
“They would try,” he says, conviction lacing his words.
I lay my head on his chest, and he runs his fingers through my hair, probably removing some of the dirt that’s in there.
“Why are you here, Arlo?”
“Because this is where you are,” he murmurs into my hair before he lays a soft kiss on it and then turns the water off. He reaches for a towel and then dries us both off before stepping out and offering me his hand. He then wraps the towel around my body and asks, “Pajamas?”
“Top drawer,” I tell him, then turn to look in the mirror. What I see is a woman who looks sad. Broken. How do I fix her? Can I fix her? I’m not sure that’s even possible right now. My cheek is red from where he must have hit me when I was out of it, and my stomach is bruised from where he kicked me. I try not to think of it as Arlo appears behind me.
“Reon’s sister is a nurse, and she’s offered to come check you over if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Not tonight. I feel fine. I just want to sleep.”
