He leans over and takes the mug from my hands, sets it on the table. I hadn’t even realized I’d been drinking it.
That it’s empty.
“Come on,” he murmurs after setting it in the sink.
“I need to get home.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” he says gently. “Why don’t you stay in the guest room and go home tomorrow instead?”
It’s tempting.
But I should go.
No. Ihaveto.
Only…I’m so tired and if I go home they can get to me.
They can get to me here too.
They can get to me anywhere.
“Come on,” he says quietly, lightly touching my arm.
And though it’s definitely a mistake, I let him lead me down the hall and into the guest room.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he murmurs, opening one of the doors in the room, showing me a bathroom. “You’re safe here.”
I’m not safe anywhere.
But before I can say that or change my mind, he’s walking out the door, closing it behind him…and the last thing I hear before it clicks shut is,
“I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”
My feet move on their own volition, carrying me across the deeply masculine space and into the bathroom.
I gasp softly.
It’s beautiful—the huge steam shower and the double sinks, plush rugs on the marble floor. The walls are painted the pale blue of an early summer morning and the cabinets are white. The whole space is airy and light and…
“When my chores were done, sometimes I would climb to the top of the hay loft. There was a little window there, dusty andforgotten. One morning, I got the courage to go out on the roof, to wipe it clean, and it was worth it. I would lie there staring up through that window, pretending I was a cloud in the sky, floating away until I was free.”
He’d touched my cheek as he listened, his focus on me and only me.
And the blue on the walls is the exact shade I described.
I exhale, eyes sliding closed.
Hidden memories. Quiet mornings. Slivers of peace.
A man I thought would love me forever.
My eyes peel open and I move to the tub, unable to stop myself from being drawn to the sunken porcelain bath, unable to not I lookup.
And feel something deep in my chest hitch.
Because there’s a skylight there.
A place to stockpile hidden peaceful moments with the freedom of the sky overhead.
