I watch her swallow. Watch her shoulders ease with the water. Watch the exhaustion catch up with her in real time now that the running has stopped.
Her hands still shake.
“Rules,” I say, low.
Her eyes lift to mine.
“No wandering. No stepping outside. If you need air, you stand on the porch with me. If you hear something, you wake me. If someone knocks, you do not open the door. Not even if they say they’re LSS. You wake me.”
She swallows. “Okay.”
“Good.”
She shifts her weight, suddenly aware of herself. “I don’t have… anything. No clothes. No toothbrush. Nothing.”
I hold her gaze. “You’ll have what you need.”
Her cheeks go pink, like she doesn’t know how to accept help without feeling like she owes something.
I move to my dresser, open the top drawer, and pull out a soft shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Plain. Worn-in. Clean.
I hold them out.
“They’ll be big on you,” I say. “But you’ll be comfortable.”
She takes them carefully, like they might bite.
“Bathroom’s there,” I add, pointing. “Lock it if it makes you feel better.”
Her eyes flick to the door. “It does.”
“There are clean towels under the sink.”
She nods once, then disappears into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.
The cabin goes quiet.
Too quiet.
Until the shower kicks on.
And then my imagination betrays me.
I picture her behind that thin wall, steam curling around her bare skin, water sliding down curves I’ve been trying hard not to think about. Her hands moving over her body, unaware—or maybe all too aware—that every drop of water hitting the floor is driving me half-mad out here.
I drag a hand over my jaw, force my focus back into place.
I move through my routine on muscle memory. Check the locks. Check the windows. Shift the shotgun a little closer. Let the silence stretch.
When she steps out, my body goes still.
She’s wearing my shirt. Just the shirt.
The hem brushes the tops of her thighs. The collar slides off one shoulder, revealing a sliver of smooth skin. The sleeves swallow her hands.
She’s drowning in it, and somehow it still manages to look indecent.
Like she’s wearing a part of me.
