Well, at least he still cared.
She texted a reply, letting him know she’d arrived.
Her attention moved to the bed. If they didn’t get the heat sorted out, they could cuddle, and while kissing and a little petting was fine, she didn’t want anything else. He’d realize how fucked in the head she really was, and she wasn’t ready to watch him run from the mess which was her life.
Spencer claimed she was frigid. Her body worked fine. It was the memories an orgasm brought that would destroy any chance for intimacy.
If Ash touched her? If he tried to make her come?
Memories of her abuse surfaced. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she gagged as her stomach turned.
“Hey”—Ash returned with a load of wood—“I found something to burn.”
She heard his words but couldn’t process what he’d said, lost in the beginnings of a flashback.
The firewood clattered to the floor as Ash rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”
Ignoring him, she ran to the bathroom, barely making it before her stomach heaved.
Ash followed. “Skye?”
She slammed the door.
Images of her foster father leering over her while she was tied, spread-eagle, swam in her mind as she emptied the contents of her stomach. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees, while tearsstreamed down her cheeks. It’d been years since she had a meltdown.Why now?
Her clinical mind analyzed and dissected the problem from the viewpoint of a physician. What she needed was a psychiatrist, someone who could fix the messed up signals shooting to her brain. During medical school, residency, and now attending in the emergency department, she hadn’t had time to see a shrink. Not to mention, there was the risk of what psychoanalysis might reveal or the secrets she needed to hide.
What a horrible beginning to her time with Ash and after such a wonderful drive, too.
She scrubbed tears off her cheeks. Her voice trembled as she responded to Ash, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
His palm dragged against the wood on the other side of the door, and it made her heart lurch. Even now, he was reaching out to comfort her.
Spencer had always tried a more direct approach, never realizing he forced her in the same way she’d been violated in the past. Not that it was entirely his fault. She’d never shared with him why her body would grow cold with his touch. She didn’t want to share that with anyone. Unlike Ash, who gave her space, Spencer would have yanked the door open and pulled her into his arms, exactly the last place she needed to be.
“Please,” she begged, “give me a minute. Start the fire.” She leaned against the door, opposite of where she thought his hand might be, and closed her eyes.Please, leave. Don’t be like Spencer. Don’t bully your way inside.
His hand scraped against the wood. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked to the fireplace.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Speaking low enough that Ash couldn’t overhear, she chastised herself, “Skye Summers, get it together.”
She rinsed her mouth, and then she splashed cold water on her face. “You can do this.” And, with those words of encouragement, she opened the bathroom door.
Ash turned at the sound of the hinges, a look of relief etched on his face. He started to come to her but stopped mid step, giving her the space she needed. A piece of her fell in love with him for that.
“It’s late,” he said. “I figured we’d turn in for the night.”
He’d already changed into a pair of gray pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt. A fire blazed in the hearth, and all the lights had been turned off. He had the bed turned down. On one side, the comforter and sheets had been pulled back. On the other, he had placed a blanket over the comforter.
“I hope the sleeping arrangements are okay,” he said. “I’ll sleep on top. I don’t trust myself to get under the covers with you. Better safe than sorry that way.”
God, she loved the way he stared at her. He had an intensity that would steal her breath every time. Even better, he honored her wishes and had given her space.
“About that?—”
“No worries. But if you’re done in there…” He held up his toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Go ahead. I need to find mine.”
