My heart aches at the worry in his tone, and I give his fingers a quick squeeze. “It’s hair. It’ll grow back.”
Blowing out a long, slow breath, he nods. “Okay. How short do you want it?”
“To my shoulders? Give or take?” In truth, I don’t care. Anything will be better than the braid almost brushing my ass.
After a quick check of the water level in the tub, he drapes a towel over my shoulders and removes the tie holding the braid together.
It takes him almost a full minute to unwind Parker’s handiwork. God, there’s so much hair, I can barely see me once he finishes.
“I can’t promise this is gonna be even,” he says, his voice cracking on the last word.
“You’re stalling.” I meet his gaze in the mirror, hoping my smile will reassure him. It must, because the shears whisper through my locks one section at a time. With each cut, I feel lighter, until there’s a pile of hair on the counter and what’s left falls to just below my shoulders.
The woman staring back at me now is less of a stranger. And in her eyes? There’s a tiny flicker of recognition.
“I look more like me,” I say, my voice so quiet, I don’t know if he can even hear it over the running water.
He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You always looked like you, darlin’.”
Moving the wheelchair so it’s right next to the tub, he plunges his hand through the bubbles to check the water temperature, then turns off the faucet and shifts from one foot to the other, his gaze pinned to the floor. “Can you…uh…do you need me to stay…?”
As much as I want to be strong enough to do something as simple as bathe on my own, I know I can’t. Not yet.
The dizzying hum behind my eyes hasn’t let up since my panic attack earlier. And I’m so tired of feeling fragile.
“I’m afraid I’ll fall,” I whisper.
“Then I’ll stay.” His tone is soft, but certain. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you, Grace. Always.”
AJ unbuttons my pajama top, his eyes never leaving my face—not even when he eases the fabric from my shoulders. Gently, he guides my arms around his neck and lifts me to my feet. His warm fingers curl around the waistband of my pants, lowering them—and my panties—to the floor.
For the first time in three years, I’m naked in front of my husband.
It lasts for all of half a minute before he guides me into the tub. The water wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I let out a sigh.
AJ crouches down, but doesn’t look at me. “You can reach the grab bar, right?”
“Yes. But…will you stay? Just…talk to me?”
He eases himself onto his ass, elbows resting on his knees, gaze pinned to the floor. “About what? How we met? Our friends?”
Running the washcloth slowly over my left arm, I figure out what I want to know. “Tell me about the last three years. About your life.”
Slowly, he raises his head, his eyes full of grief. “I didn’t have one.”
Shit.
I asked too much of him. I’m searching for something else to grasp onto—a safer subject—when he continues.
“I worked. A lot. Got an apartment in town close to the station. I couldn’t sleep in our bed every night without you. Belle and I…we came here on weekends, but Sunday through Thursday, we lived there.”
My eyes prickle with the threat of tears, but I swallow them down. I need to know him. Really know him.
“You said…yesterday…that you and Jasper had issues. Why?”
His mouth flattens into something not quite a smile. “Six months in, he told me to get my ass back to work. That I had to…move on. I kicked him out of the house and didn’t talk to him for almost two years after that.”
“AJ! He’s your twin!”
