“Found them,” Seamus says. “Erin, I’m sorry, but they have to go into custody until I have answers.”
I nod, even as my eyes go watery and a lump forms in my throat. “Aye. I know.”
“Erin!” My mother reaches for me, her eyes wide and terrified. And that’s when I see him—Dr. Rosenberg, sitting at the kitchen table, watching all of us placidly.
“Dr. Rosenberg!”
He nods in greeting.
I sink into a chair before my legs give out.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Erin
We are a fucking disaster.Cavin's sprawled on the bed, blood dried on his knuckles, bruising already blooming across his ribs. There's a cut above his eyebrow—it hurts like hell and probably needs stitches.
I'm not much better with my scraped knees and bruised and cut-up wrists. Everything hurts.
“We need to move,” I say quietly.
“Shower, meds, bed.” He grunts, but doesn't open his eyes.
“Cavin.”
“Five more minutes.”
“You're bleeding on your fancy sheets.”
“Fuck the sheets.” But then he shifts anyway, wincing. “Christ.”
I drag myself upright, every muscle screaming. “Come on. Shower first. Then we'll find the pain meds.”
The bathroom is all marble and golden fixtures—wealth evident even in the smallest details. I turn on the shower, and steam immediately fills the space.
Cavin leans against the doorframe, watching me with hooded eyes. There's blood on his shoulders and streaked across his jaw.
“Can you stand?” I ask.
“Can you?”
“Fair point.”
We strip slowly, carefully. “Jesus, Erin.” He glances down at my torso—bruises, lots of them.
We step into the shower together. The hot water feels glorious, soothing sore muscles even while stinging every cut and scrape. Cavin hisses through his teeth.
“Steady,” I murmur.
“I’m grand.”
“Oh, you liar.”
I get him under the spray, letting the water wash away the worst of the blood. “I talked to Bridget,” I say quietly. “She's doing alright. I only told her a little—just a wee bit.” I steady him with a hand on his shoulder. “Lean on me. I don't want you falling and hitting your head again.”
He does, his weight settling against my shoulder. We stand there, letting the water wash away the evidence of tonight's violence.
I reach for the soap and start cleaning him gently. The cuts look raw and angry. He winces, but he's been through worse.
