I snort at the platitude, working my way free of him. “Sure, I’ll get right onto that after I master trying not to breathe.”
Another student walks by. I don’t know her name, but she stares at me, stares at Lachlan, stares at me again, then breaks into a sprint.
Even gossip doesn’t need to travel that fast, surely?
When I look down at myself, I understand why. My outfit is stained with dad’s blood.
On the one hand, I guess that means no one’s running to Kari. On the other, a sob rises from deep within me as I realise again how badly he was hurt. How even now he might be dying.
Reinforcements might have come back before he could arrange a flight. He might have fallen into unconsciousness again, leaving him vulnerable when the men returned.
He might be dead already.
“Grab my hand,” Lachlan orders me. “Keep your head down. You remember where my room is, don’t you? I’ll take you straight there and you can share all those awful thoughts in your head so I can tell you how unlikely they are to happen.”
“Okay.” I follow his instructions, focusing only on the touch of his fingers twining through mine.
Inside his room, he unwraps me, carefully removing the soaked sweatshirt and easing down my jeans. They’re so drenched with Dad’s blood they look more black than blue.
He puts them into a hamper at the end of his bed, already overflowing so he has to jam them hard to fit. I shift from foot to foot, unsure of what to do next. Unsure of everything.
The last time I was in his room was so different. I don’t get any vibes off him right now except concern.
Lachlan catches my glance and says, “There’s an onsite laundry service. Once they clean them, I’ll get them back to you.”
He goes into the bathroom to turn on the shower, coaxing me through a moment later. “Relax,” he says when I try to wriggle around the side of him without touching, an impossibility in the small space. “I won’t jump your bones. You need to get clean.”
I glimpse myself in the bathroom mirror over his shoulder,looking like a still from the climax of Carrie. The image scares me, and I cut my eyes away.
“The water’s warm enough.”
I step into the small cubicle, dousing my hair under the stream. Lachlan joins me a moment later. He’s stripped off his shirt but left his jeans in place. In a minute, they’re sodden.
“I can shower by myself.”
“But you don’t need to,” he says in a light tone, pouring a generous serve of shampoo into his hand. The touch of his fingers as he massages it into my wet hair is soothing and I close my eyes. Scenes from earlier immediately crowd my memory and I open them again, feeling the sting of the shampoo.
My tears fall, mingling with the water. I wipe them away, but Lachlan nudges me. “Don’t worry about it. Pretend I’m not here.”
“And you like it when girls cry,” I echo from my memory.
He stops, tilting my chin up to stare into my eyes. A small frown furrows his brow. “That isn’t…” He shakes his head, then pulls me against him, hugging me tightly. “Not the situation I was thinking of at all.”
Because of his encouragement, or because I can’t stop them, the tears pour forth. I rest my hands on Lachlan’s shoulders, hiding my face in his chest.
Slowly, slowly, he eases his embrace, returning to his efforts on my hair, the water gradually running through the shades from crimson to pink to clear as my emotions calm, the tension released.
Then a new fear cuts through me. “How w-will dad reach me? What if he calls outside of class?”
“He knows your number, right?”
I nod. “B-but my phone—”
“Is in my jacket and I’ve got my old phone in a drawer somewhere, so we can get the SIM working.”
His smile is reassuring as he takes my hands, one at a time, painstakingly lathering between my fingers and easing out the blood beneath my nails. It’s so strange to have someone take care of me, that I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation.
It feels like my mother’s back, and I regress years, shedding my necessary independence.
