“My h-hair,” she says on a hiccup, chin tucked to her chest.
“What about your hair?” I think I know the answer, and while I’m sure she doesn’t want to talk about it, this is a conversation we need to have because it feels bigger than hair loss.
“It’s falling out,” she whispers. “And I’m falling apart.”
My heart aches for her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I murmur, clenching my eyes shut and wrapping my arms around her in a tight embrace, covering more of her with the towel. I drag in a breath through my nose for four beats, hold for four, and exhale through my mouth for six. I repeat the technique five times before opening my eyes, getting to my feet, and tugging her up and into my arms.
“You’re going to make everything wet,” she whines, and her complaint would make me laugh if I didn’t feel so damn defeated.
“Would you like my serious answer or a sad attempt at making you smile?” I ask, carrying her to her bed and setting her down, walking backwards to the bathroom to grab her robe and hairbrush, refusing to take my eyes off her.
“You’re not a very funny person, but let’s go with the latter,” she says with a small shrug.
I return a moment later, sliding the robe over her shoulders and turning my head so she can slip the towel from her body and cover herself. “Hey now, Lyla and Ellie happen to think I’m the funniest person on the planet.”
“Was that the joke?”
“Hardy, har, har,” I tease, working the towel through her hair, cringing as strands slip from her scalp, this most recent infusion thinning it far more than the others had.
“Well then, your sisters need to get out more.” She takes the towel from my hands, dropping it to the floor beside the rubbish bin with the clumps of her hair she’d been holding in the shower. “Go on, what was your unimpressive joke?”
I smirk, leaning in to speak in my most sexy baritone, which I’m sure has zero effect on her. “I’m sorry this is the first time I’ve had you this wet,baby girl,” I purse my lips, holding back my laughter, “but I’d be glad to make it up to you some other time.”
I pull back to find Adhira’s skin flushed, her lips sucked into her mouth, and her shoulders shaking in silent protest. She releases her lip, and it’s like a dam breaking as her cackling laughter booms through the small space. My blood hums in approval. She smacks my bicep, shaking her head as the last throes of her laughter die down. “You’re right, Elijah. Your flirtingisa joke.”
I wrinkle my brow, pulling away. “Ouch,” I say, wringing out my right hand. “That burns.”
“You’ll get over it,” she quips, turning to give me her back, which I take as an offer to let me brush her hair. It’s something she knows I enjoy doing. It makes me feel like I’m taking care of her, but what she doesn’t realise is how muchshetakes care of me by allowing it. There's a fine balance between constantly being needed by everyone to the point that it seems to be all Ihave to offer and fulfilling my own need to do things for others. One makes me feel worthless; the other grounds me.
Adhira has found that balance with me, and my feelings for her have grown because of it, veering so far outside friendship that I fear losing pieces of myself along with her if she were ever absent from my life.
I start at her ends, just as I would with my sisters, working the brush up to the roots and letting the long strands hang loosely down her back when I’m finished.
Now seems as good a time as any to show her what I'd been working on before finding her in the shower. “I have a surprise for you,” I tell her, and she peers over her shoulder at me.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hm, come on,” I urge, standing and reaching out a hand for her to take. She shakes her head gently and moves to her door, giving me just enough time to shove the wad of hair I’d removed from her brush into the bin, then snatch the bag out and tie it in a knot to dispose of in the kitchen. “Go stand in the living room with your eyes closed,” I instruct, shuffling around her to get rid of the bag.
When I return, I flip on the balcony light and open the door.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper, watching as her lashes flutter open. Her eyes catch on the surprise: A metal stand holds a wide cream hammock with hanging knots and crystals attached to the ends that I’d installed earlier. I revel in the gentle smile curving her lips, sliding the glass door open and stepping out for her to follow me.
She comes willingly, clutching her robe around her as we lean against the balcony, staring out over the city with the last remnants of the setting sun glowing on the horizon. I flick my gaze behind us to the hammock, catching her gaze as she watches me. “I’m sorry it’s not big enough to give you space, butI’d really like to test it out with you.” My voice is husky and low as I speak the words that I know might result in rejection.
She doesn’t speak, allowing her actions to inform me of her decision. She pushes down on the centre of the hammock, unceremoniously heaving herself in and rolling to one side before beckoning me over with a wave of her hand. My desire to be near her doesn’t wane; I do as she asks, rolling in beside her and relishing the press of her cool skin against my overheated flesh.
She flips over to face me, and my fingers flex with the desire to drag her leg across my lap, desperate for more of her body against mine. But as always, I refrain, keeping my inner animal at bay. I give in to this overwhelming feeling in the only way I can. The worry for her future and my need to be a part of it tears through me as I reach out to caress her cheek with the tips of my fingers.
“Tell me to stop,” I plead before I can make contact, my heart thundering against my ribs as the fear of losing her steals my breath away. I need her to push me away so I don’t shatter if I lose her.
Who am I kidding?I’ll shatter anyway.
And Adhira never does as she’s told. Reaching up to capture my hand in hers, she whispers, “Please, don’t stop.” Her eyes are wide beneath dark lashes, and who am I to deny her? I’m a mere mortal in the presence of a goddess.
Her hand drops from mine, landing on my chest, electricity zipping through me as I focus on her, cataloguing every swirl of her fingers and hesitant touch. I lean closer, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing in her warm, honeyed scent.
“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe out, not bothering to stop the words flowing from my lips.
