She ain’t ready for anything more than forehead kisses and being held close, but my body doesn’t know that. If I rub one out now, it’ll take the edge off. I hope.
But even though the memory of our last time together is clear as day, when I close my eyes, I see her as she is now. Fighting demons she can’t name. Bruised and beaten within an inch of her life. A shadow of the woman I married.
I rest my forehead against the glass wall, and let myself cry.
After I run the electric razor over my face and soothe the skin with the balm Grace always loved the scent of, I cinch a towel tight around my waist. Why didn’t I think to grab my bathrobe before I came in here? The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. But I can’t get to the closet without going through the bedroom.
She’s sitting up against the headboard, Belle stretched out next to her, when I open the bathroom door.
Her unbruised cheek turns bright red as her gaze snaps to my bare chest.
Fuck.
I’m halfway to the closet when she says my name.
“AJ? Come here. Please?”
If I turn around and she looks away, I’ll break right in front of her. “Let me get dressed, darlin’. I won’t be more than two shakes.”
“No.”
No?
The duvet rustles. Grace hisses out a breath. The sound sends panic’s icy fingers to squeeze my heart, and I rush over to her. “What’s wrong?”
She sits on the edge of the mattress, one hand pressed to her side. “I moved a little too quickly, that’s all. But…sit with me. Please.”
It’s not easy to keep the towel in place as I sink down next to her. Why didn’t I buy those big-ass bath sheets last year?
Grace reaches up to touch my cheek. “This is how you looked in most of the pictures.”
I sit up a little straighter. “There wasn’t a single photo of me half naked in a towel.”
She laughs—truly laughs like I haven’t heard in three years. God, I’ve missed that sound.
“Fair point. But maybe there should have been.” Turning to face me, she rests her hand over my heart. “I’m terrified of a lot of things right now, AJ. But not of seeing you. You’re my husband. I may not remember getting married, going on our honeymoon, buying this house, or…anything from our lives together, but I know I feel safe with you.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest and letting her hands smooth down my back.
And when her lips press to the curve of my neck—just for a single breath—a part of me I thought I’d lost forever finds its way home.
Grace
Water splashes into the tub, steam rising in slow, lazy curls, clinging to the mirror and softening the edges of my reflection.
I was so dizzy when AJ helped me to my feet, I didn’t trust myself with the walker. He didn’t judge. Just got the wheelchair so I wouldn’t have to sit—and balance—on the closed toilet while he ran me a bath.
He drops to a knee in front of me, wearing only a pair of Wranglers, his chest still bare. He’s wiry. Strong, but not bulky. I could trace his six-pack if I were brazen enough. But while I didn’t lie earlier—I’m not afraid to see him or touch him—I am afraid of anything more. What if I kiss him and feel nothing? Or what if all I feel…is pain?
“I think I can use one of your hair clips to keep your braid out of the water.” AJ lifts the long twist of hair and sets it on top of my head. But before he grabs the clip off the counter, I reach for his hand.
“Cut it for me.”
He freezes. “What?”
“In all the pictures…it was shorter. And it’s too heavy. It makes the headaches worse. I don’t know why it’s so long. If I wasn’t allowed to cut it or if I didn’t want to, but I want to now. I just don’t trust myself with scissors.”
He frowns. “Grace, I don’t know shit about cutting hair. You always went to a salon downtown. What if I mess it up?”
