I expect him to breeze past me, so when he pulls me into his arms and presses a soft kiss into my hair, I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught of emotion that makes them prickle with unshed tears.
“You’re safe now,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I inhale sharply, and the breath breaks in the back of my throat. I lean into him harder, willing that vague sense of relief to crystalize and chase away all the rest of my emotions.
He’s got me.Safe. I’m safe. I’m safe because he’s here…
“Wait!” I gasp. “Some Bills!”
“I used your phone to text your upstairs neighbor to retrieve him. He’s safe with her in her flat now.”
The breath that blows out of me is shaky and full of gratitude. My eyes water with it. He thinks of everything. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Get in the bath when it finishes filling. I’ll erase the footage, then I need to check in with my team quickly, let them know about the sedated man in the alley. I’ll be in when I’m done.”
He leaves the bathroom, taking that feeling of peace with him, and all I’m left with is a highlight reel of terror.
Someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me backwards. Someone covered my mouth and nose and deprived me of air for long enough to make me see stars and almost pass out. Someone shot at me.
Someone tried to kill me.
Wesley swooped in like my hero, but watching him fight that guy was terrifying–especially when he took a hit to the liver that made the blood drain from his face. And then we got away, but riding on the back of that bike was horrible. Everyturn we took made my stomach bottom out, and I was frozen in fear, too scared to shut my eyes.
What if we were followed? What if they’re watching us right now? What if whoever it is out there that wants to hurt me knows where I am?
Calmate.This is the anxiety, Madison.I coach myself the way Dr. Cora told me to.Anxiety makes your thoughts race and your emotions hard to regulate. Wesley said you’re safe.
It’s been a while since I had a bad episode, since the meds I’m on do such a good job. Guess even SSRIs can’t compete with the sheer terror of nearly dying.
I shove those thoughts away, shut it all out and move to the tub. It helps to have something else to focus on instead of the swirling thoughts. Right now, I can focus on getting clean, because I can see the grime all over my face. He must have had dirt on his hand when he wrapped it around my mouth…
Don’t go back there. Stay here. Stay present.
The tub is half filled and desperately in need of bubbles. Shampoo and body wash create a lame amount of suds that float on top, but they smell nice and it’s better than nothing. I peel off my clothes, listening for sounds that Wesley is coming back. All I can hear are the low tones of his voice, muffled through the door. He must be talking to his team.
I disrobe, tossing my ruined tights and underwear into the trash and piling the rest of my clothes in the corner, shivering when I remember how the zipper of my sweatshirt got caught on that man’s sleeve…
Here. Now.
I heave a breath and start making observations—another Dr. Cora trick. I’ve never been in a bathtub this big before. I settle at one end and wrap my arms under my knees to hug them as close as I can to my chest. I marvel at how much more room there is than in the tub in my apartment. It’s big enough for two—maybe even three. I wonder if people have sex in it when they stay here.
I get so lost in thought, I don’t hear Wesley open the door. “Madison?”
I turn as he crosses the threshold, his socks barely making a sound against the white marble tile floor. “You’re still shaking, my love.”
Not sure what to say to that, I just nod. “I feel cold.”
The look on his face is full of so much concern, I have to look away or I might start crying. “Will you… Madison, will you let me take care of you?” he asks, holding up the half-empty bottle of shampoo.
“Why?” I hear myself ask woodenly. He said it with a certain emphasis, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m in a kind of shock, but I don’t think I fully understand the question. Why would he want to do that?
“I… well, I’d say I want to, but it’s a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. I need to.”
As long as he’s touching me, I’m fine with it. I just need his hands on me or I’m afraid I might float away. “Okay.”
As he settles onto his knees on the tile just on the other side of the bathtub, that missing piece snaps into place. Oh,that’swhat he meant. Wait, he’s going to… bathe me? Like I’m a kid? I don’t like that.
I must make a face, because he hesitates in the act of rolling up his sleeves. “Is this all right?” he asks, brows tilting up in the middle in concern.
