“On the count of three. One… two… three.” With the last number earning a grunt, I let out a fierce growl helping him to a stand.
His body swallows mine, heavy with dead weight, but as I struggle, the weight of his solid frame seems to ease up. He’s like a baby calf learning how to walk for the first time.
His body is a wobbly mess as he leans on me for support, his left arm still draped over my shoulders and my arms around his waist to give him stability. But this isn’t exactly a cake walk. I’m way smaller than him and practically carrying a well over six-foot large man seems impossible.
Somehow, we make it across the street and into my building. I don’t know where else to go, where to take him, so back to my apartment is the only answer and only choice. My roommate is still gone, and I couldn’t just leave him outside like this.
For someone who claims he’s not physically injured, he’s sure acting otherwise.
“Oh god, stairs.” I let out an exacerbated laugh. It’s impeccable timing our elevator is out of service. “Come on. You have to help me out here.”
The steps are a test of my strength, which I clearly have none. But to be fair, it’s like carrying an elephant.
Finally making it to my apartment door, I swing his arm off me so I can find my key. The thirty seconds is a welcoming break to catch my breath. I spare a glance over at him, his eyes still unaware, and his body ready to fall over at any given minute if it wasn’t for the wall holding him up.
“All right. Back on, big guy.” I stagger with him inside my place, heading straight for the bathroom. Not an enjoyable conversation if my roommate came home to blood stains everywhere on her furniture.
I let him go, gently letting his body sink to the floor, his back now resting against the tub while I turn on the shower. He’s visibly shaking. Whether it’s from being cold or adrenaline, he needs to be under a warm shower.
“I’m going to take off your club vest, okay?” Not expecting him to answer, I work the blood-stained leather off his body, placing it off to the side.
What the hell happened?
The steam from the hot water surrounds us and I stand there, stumped, starting to feel the sweat trickling down my back from the heavy ass man I just carried up a flight of stairs. I quickly shed my winter gear, setting my hat and scarf next to his cut, and throwing my hair up into a bun so it’s out of the way.
My eyes widen when I catch a glimpse of what I look like in the mirror. Blood smeared across on my face.
I ignore it for now. “We need to get you under the warm water.” I don’t think twice, because right now isn’t the time to decide if it’d be awkward seeing Hush nearly naked.
I begin working off his sweatshirt from his trembling body, leaving just a white T-shirt loosely hanging from his torso. Then I take that off too, tossing it to the side. There are tattoos everywhere inked on his light skin. They follow every curve, every ridge of muscle, beautifully flowing like one intertwined work of art. A tree branch starts at his ribs with butterflies lifting over his chest. The illusion so perfectly done so, you can swear they are soaring and flying with a destination in mind.
He's… perfect. Utterly perfect.
With his eyes still lost, and his body still shaking, I stop gawking so I can get him under the water.
“You need to help me stand you up.” I need to get his jeans off.
With both my feet planted on either side of his thighs, I reach under his arms, bending at the knees and hoisting him up to a wobbly standing position. I go to unbutton his jeans but freeze when his hand clutches over my wrist halting me. His eyes remain a million miles away with his cold hand gently laying over top of my bare skin causing goosebumps. But then it’s gone, and I take that as my sign to continue.
I pay him the respect he deserves by keeping my eyes offthatarea, leaving his boxer briefs on. The strength it requires getting him over the tub and under the water will never be matched. He looks absolutely destroyed as he sits there, letting the water soak his almost naked body, knees curled to his chest, his eyes staring at nothing. What am I supposed to do? Do I give him privacy?
As soon as I take a step for the door, Hush says with quiet and broken words, “He touched her.”
My stomach twists. I obviously don’t know who he’s referring tobut there’s no way I can resist the curiosity.
Still in my uniform, I move under the hot stream and copy his sitting position only a foot away. Within seconds my clothesand hair are soaked, water pouring down over both of us like a waterfall. With the water dripping over his face like this, it somehow enhances his beautiful strong features. I don’t believe perfection can be made more stunning than this.
I’m careful to ease into it, not to frighten him. “Who?” I ask softly. I want to know who she is but also who the other man was, too.
The flare of his nostrils, and the whites of his knuckles as he fists his hands into a ball are the first real emotions I’ve seen from Hush since I found him outside the diner. Even anger is a good sign, which means he’s coming back to the present.
“I killed him,” he says under the grinding of his teeth.
The breath catches in my throat, my heart taking a giant leap.
He killed someone.
Here I sit merely inches from a murderer.
