Nothing.
I twist the handle. Unlocked.
The door swings open, and a suffocating wave of steam floods out, fogging the world white. I step inside—
And my heart stops.
Chapter 24
Ethan
Luckyisontheshower floor.
Naked. Folded into herself. Skin flushed so red it looks painful. Water hammers her from above, too hot—boiling-hot, and she doesn’t move, doesn’t react, doesn’t even seem to know she’s there.
Christ, Lucky.
I don’t hesitate for even a heartbeat.
I’m in the shower fully clothed, grabbing the tap and shutting off the water. The stream cuts instantly, leaving only the sound of her ragged, uneven breaths.
I crouch and slide my arms under her, lifting her gently but urgently, her soaked skin burning my hands.
“Hey,” I murmur, voice breaking despite the control I’m trying to hold onto. “Sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She’s limp and barely conscious.
I carry her out of the stall, through the steam-filled room, back into the cooler air of her bedroom. I kneel beside the bed and lay her down carefully, reaching for the nearest towel to wrap around her shoulders, then another for her legs, covering her trembling body.
I sit beside her, one hand smoothing damp hair from her forehead, the other gripping the towel so tightly my knuckles ache.
“Lucky…”
My voice is barely a whisper now, thick and rough.
“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Her eyes flutter, just barely. A small, broken sound catches in her throat. Not a word. Not even a sob. Just… pain. The kind that’s lived in her too long.
I lean closer.
“Lucky. Look at me.”
Her gaze skims past me, unfocused, like she’s still trapped somewhere inside her mind. Somewhere, he put her. Somewhere she couldn’t escape.
“No,” I breathe, cupping the side of her face gently—gentler than I’ve ever touched anything in my life. “Come back. I need you here.”
Her skin is hot. Too hot.
I pull the towel tighter around her and check her arms first. They're angry red from the scalding water, but no blistering. Thank God. Then her legs. Her shoulders. Everywhere, bright and raw from scrubbing.
Christ.
What the hell did she do to herself trying to get clean?
My chest twists so sharply it’s almost physical pain.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure what for. For not staying. For not seeing this coming. For leaving her alone last night of all bloody nights.
