Alma disappears into the back room and a few minutes later emerges triumphantly, clutching two calendars. “I found these. Take your pick.”
One is a charity calendar featuring the firefighters of Hillcrest, wherever the fuck that is, and the other has tulips on the front. I opt for the latter, and tell myself it’s got nothing to do with Imogen staring at images of half-naked men who aren’t me.
It’s late by the time I get back to the house and Imogen is in her room. Her door is half open but I knock and wait for her to invite me in. She’s sitting up in bed, watching TV and the small smile on her face when she sees the brown paper grocery bag in my arms makes listening to Alma’s incredibly vivid description of herhoo-ha blowing outworth every second.
“I got the things you needed.”
“Pads?” She holds out her hands and I take a pack out and toss them to her. Immediately she sprints to the bathroom and closes the door. I stand awkwardly, still hovering by the doorway and then realize what a creep I’m being waiting for her to put a pad on. I place the paper bag on her bed, ready to leave when she calls out. “I’ll be right out. Just one minute.”
And now I feel like I have to stay. No, I want to stay. Because that sounded like she wanted me to and how could I possibly deny myself a chance to be in her company? A minute later she walks out of the bathroom. “Fixed now. Thank you, sir.” Her eyes dart to the bag on the bed, and no doubt she sees the candy peeking out of the top. “Is that...” She stops speaking immediately, as though she remembers where she is and the grin that was about to light up her face disappears.
I hate that she won’t let herself be human around me. I might look like a monster, but I’m not. At least not for her. Never for her.
On the other hand, I’m definitely a sick fuck for noticing her nipples beneath that T-shirt and wondering what it would be like to kiss them, but I would never act on that impulse. She never has to worry about being touched when she doesn’t want to be ever again. The decisions about her body will only ever be hers. She has nothing to be afraid of in this house and I have no idea how to assure her of that.
I tip out the contents of the bag onto her bed. “There’s Advil in case you have cramps and the store lady told me that chocolate is a thing. I don’t know much about that, but I got you a few different kinds.”
“And this?” She picks up the calendar and stares at it like it’s the most incredible thing in the world.
“A calendar. So you can track your cycle. For next time.”
Her slender throat works as she swallows, like she’s trying to choke down whatever emotion it is she’s feeling. But at least she’s feeling something and I so desperately want that for her. I want her to feel a whole kaleidoscope of feelings and emotions. To feel loved and have all of those things she never had before now right here. Even if that means I’ll have to endure the torture of being close without touching her. “Thank you, sir.”
Fuck, I want to touch her though. Wrap her in my arms and tell her that she’s safe here, that I’ll never let anyone hurt her. But if I hug her, then I might smell her hair or her skin. Shemight melt into me, because she’s been trained to be obedient, and I might let her. I might kiss her forehead and then her lips, then allow my hands to wander beneath her T-shirt. I might do any one of the things I’d like to do to her whenever she’s near me. and how can I be sure that’s what she wants and not simply what she thinks I expect from her. So instead, I leave.
Chapter 14
Lincoln
The light from her TV is on when I walk past her room again. It’s after 1:00 a.m. and I assume she must have fallen asleep. For that reason, I allow myself to stick my head inside and check on her. But instead of finding her sleeping, she’s doubled over, bathed in the blue light from the screen, her arms clutched over her stomach like she’s in pain.
“Imogen, are you okay?”
She looks up, startled. “Just cramps, sir.”
I cross the room to her. “Did you take the Advil?”
She winces, unable to hide the pain on her face. “They worked a little. The cramps just come and go is all. Like bursts of pain every so often.” She sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”
Given who she was raised by and the little I’ve gleaned about her childhood, I suspect all her life she’s been conditioned to ignore pain. To brush it off and never allow anyone to care for her. Or more likely never had anyone willing to and that thought makes the guilt I feel at not protecting her from that life even more crushing. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes and a visit to the kitchen later, I return with a hot water bottle.
“What’s that for?” She blinks at me.
“No one ever taught you that heat is good for stomach pain?”
She shakes her head.
Without thinking, I sit on the bed beside her. “May I?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispers.
I shake off the anger those words provoke in me right now. They make me feel like her fucking owner. And I’m well aware that’s all on me, that she has no idea why I had to participate in that evil auction, but it still fucking stings.
I pull down the covers a little and rest the hot water bottle on her lower abdomen, over her T-shirt. “There?”
She nods, closing her eyes and lying back against the pillow. “Yes,” she says on a relieved sigh. “That feels so nice.”
