I drop my basketball shorts and step under the warm spray, a low groan escaping my chest.Damn. I forgot how good hot water feels. Showers are great, but it's hard to find interest in anything when I’m like this.
Taking my time, I wash my hair twice, realizing it’s longer than I like. When I feel better, I’ll head down to the barbershop for a trim.
As much as I love the warm water, the little bit of energy I have is starting to fade. I finish with one last rinse, then step out, grab a soft, clean white towel and wrap it around my hips. Wiping the steam from the mirror with my hand, I catch a glimpse of myself.
I look like death.
Ironic.
I’m grateful Cullen didn’t push that issue. He had to know what I meant earlier with my pills. The way his breathing shifted against my back said enough.
I couldn’t stand being trapped inside my own broken mind any longer. I just wanted it to stop. Needed it to.
When I heard Cull on the other side of my door, I cracked. It felt like divine intervention.
Trying not to dwell on the dark anymore, I brush my teeth for the first time since Friday morning and rinse with mouthwash for good measure before leaving the bathroom. When I step back into my bedroom, I stop short.
It’s spotless.
The blackout curtains are tied back, sunlight streaming through the open blinds, and the air smells like the seaside cotton linen spray Mom uses. The trash is all gone from under my bed, and the sheets are clean.
Footsteps come up behind me. I turn to see Cull holding a paper plate with a sandwich—ham by the looks of it—and a bag of potato chips in his other hand. A bottle of water is tucked under his arm, and he is wearing a look somewhere between sheepish and unapologetic.
How did he manage all this so fast?
“Please don’t take my cleaning your room as pity,” he rushes to say, reading my mind. “Or something else equally ridiculous. This is just me taking one thing off your plate so you don’t have to worry about it. I can’t fix your health, but I can give you a more comfortable space to work through it.”
My throat tightens as I try to swallow. “I don’t deserve this. Not after what I said on Friday.”
“You deserve everything good, Hud.” His voice is full of quiet conviction. “And don’t worry about Friday. We’ll talk about it later.”
Those damn butterflies in my gut stir to life again, fluttering at his words.
“I know you said you don’t have much of an appetite, but I brought the sandwich in case you want to try eating a little.”
“I’ll try.” Wanting nothing more than to make him happy.
“Um, your clothes are on the dresser.” His eyes give a quick, casual sweep across my chest before flicking toward the window.
I glance down at my bare torso, then walk over to the dresser and grab the clothes he set out for me, doing my best not to make it weird.
With my back to him, I slide on my underwear beneath the towel before letting it fall to the floor. I keep my head turned, afraid he might see the longing on my face. The kind that’s getting harder to hide.
Especially after what he’s done for me today.
“I appreciate you, Cull.” My throat is tight, so I clear it. “I-I think you showed up at just the right time this morning.”
“I knew something wasn’t right. I’m glad I listened to my instincts.”
I turn and give him a strained smile, then pull on the t-shirt and a pair of gray joggers. I take the plate he offers with thesandwich and glance around my room. It’s clean now, but it still feels like the same pit of despair.
I let out a slow, heavy breath. “Can we go down to the media room? I need to get out of here. It still feels stifling.”
Cullen smiles. “Yeah, we can watch a movie or something.”
He leads the way downstairs, and I drop onto the couch. I look at the sandwich in my lap, my stomach growling. There’s still a layer of static sitting heavy on my chest, making me antsy. The need to get out of the house altogether feels urgent.
“Actually, can we go out? Maybe hit the diner for some real food?”
