“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry. I’ll clean it up. I promise.” My bottom lip is trembling. I’m going to cry. Why did I have to make a big mess? I just got here. He’s not going to let me stay.
Suddenly, his huge hand is on top of my head. He tips it back so I’m looking at him. “Eloise, it’s okay, Little one.” He’s smiling. “Take a breath. They’re just bubbles. No harm. They will all pop soon and disappear.”
I’m hyperventilating, unable to process his reaction. He’s not mad?
“Angel, breathe.”
He’s not yelling. He hasn’t told me I’m a stupid cunt. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. A moment later, he curls up his nose. “You’re going to smell like a florist.”
I sniffle, breathing in the scent. It’s so nice. It’s heavenly. Like cherry blossoms. One of my foster families had a cherry blossom tree. I realize that’s what was on the bottles.
Cannon squats down next to the tub. “You’re not in any trouble, Little one.”
“I should have read the bottle. I put some in, but I didn’t know how much it would take to make a few bubbles.”
His smile is so handsome. “They multiply fast.”
They’re popping all around me now. It’s kind of loud the way they’re busting around my ears because that’s how high they have grown. The water is warm, but I’m shaking anyway because I don’t want to make Cannon mad.
But he’s not mad. He’s calm and stroking my forehead. “Next time you take a bath, you can use the tub in my bathroom. It has jets that will keep the bubbles alive around you for longer. In this regular tub, they will all pop away to nothing soon.”
They’re already going down, and I don’t think any of them went over the side. I’m relieved.
“Okay, Little one?”
I nod and inhale deeply.
“Take your time. Relax in the water for a while. If it starts to get cold, drain a bit and add more hot water. I promise the bubbles will be fine.”
“’Kay.”
Cannon tips my head back farther, rises, and bends down to kiss my forehead. And then he leaves.
I’m left staring at the door. So many emotions are tumbling around inside me that I can’t process any of them individually. I’m still unnerved from fearing I had done something very wrong. But I’m also warm and comfortable in clean water in a beautiful bathroom. Most of all, my forehead seems to tingle where he kissed me.
Cannon is the kindest man ever. Never in my life have I been attracted to a man. Not once. Granted, I’ve never really had the opportunity. I certainly wasn’t interested in any of the boys who roamed the halls of the various high schools I attended. I wasn’t at any of them long enough to develop lasting relationships. I spent most of that time trying to fly under the radar unnoticed. I wore my hair loose and messy around my face so no one would notice me. I wore baggy clothes and no makeup.
I was well-aware that I was pretty by the time I was about six. Most of the time when people pointed it out, they did so by sneering at me as if I was somehow a royal bitch for being one of the pretty humans. As if I had any control over it.
If I had control over my looks, I would not choose to be pretty. It’s a pain in the ass and has caused me nothing but trouble. By the time I was in ninth grade, I learned to hide in any way I could.
It didn’t always work. It didn’t stop every stupid, immature boy from getting in my face. But it helped.
Until it did not.
Until the world fell out from under me. Until Larkin used my looks to ruin my life and line his pockets.
Needing to shake horrific thoughts of that asshole from my head, I duck under the water to wet my hair and reach for the shampoo. It smells amazing, and I take my time. After I rinse out the shampoo, I do it again. The only times I’ve had a decent shower in the last six months have been on nights I stayed in shelters. The rest of the time, I made do in gas stations or supermart bathrooms.
After applying conditioner, I reach for the body soap and the strange pink puff next to it. I’ve seen these on commercials. I know they’re for washing, and it really does feel nice to run the ball of mesh over my skin. I think it’s called a loofah. Sounds fancy.
When I’m done, I let out some water and refill like Cannon told me I could. There’s no way I would have wasted water or electricity to do so if he hadn’t said it as though it was completely inconsequential.
Leaning back to relax, my mind runs places I’d rather it wouldn’t.
“Three minutes, Eloise. I’m setting a timer. If I still hear that shower running when the timer goes off, I will march into the bathroom and turn it off myself. I don’t care if you have soap in your eyes. You hear me? Showers are a luxury around here, girl. You'd better be quick about drying off, too. You get one towel. You may wash it once a month. You won’t be running the washing machine willy-nilly like I’m made of money, ya hear? This ain’t the Holiday Inn. This here is the real world. Whatever luxuries you’re used to from living in the city with rich folks are a thing of the past.”
I flinch as I jerk my eyes open. I’ll never be able to get that smarmy voice out of my head if I live a thousand years. Most nights, I wake up in a sweat because I can’t stop the nightmares. He stars in most of them. May he rot in hell.
