Bee’s voice came from the bathroom over the sound of spraying water. “I got a variety of comfy clothes and stuffed them in the closet for you, Sybil! Once you shower, you’ll be all set. I got a bunch of soap and other things, too. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just sorta went crazy with it.” She laughed, then yelped.
Bill was probably making a mess of her.
Sybil had rolled to her side on the floor, braid trailing behind her with one arm under the bed. It looked like she’d reached her cat, petting him. She seemed relaxed, more than she had been since waking up in the hospital. I knew we needed to give her some space, but I didn’t want to.
The hairdryer whirred to life in the bathroom. It lasted several loud minutes. When it shut off, a fluffy black and white bullet shot back into the room, jumping onto the bed and back down before sniffing around. Having a dog around was going to take getting used to, but I liked how full our house felt with his radiant presence.
Bee emerged, looking like she’d unintentionally showered in her clothes. “Come on, Nash. Let’s go get cleaned up and make some food while Sybil showers.” She took my arm.
I dragged my feet. I really didn’t want to go.
Sybil’s crystal blue eyes found mine as I glanced back at her on the floor. I’m sure I looked like a sad puppy leaving a play date. She looked beautiful there, a sight that went straight to my gut.
Fuck,this was getting painful.
I was desperate to touch her, to possess her, but more than that, I wanted to know her more than I already did. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I knew I’d always want her.
My hands itched to hoist her up off the floor, drape her over my shoulder and march her up to my room to tuck her away. I clenched them into fists to quell the desire as I left the room, Beeclosing the door behind me.
CHAPTER 20
Sybil
Mr. Beans was purring under the bed. My fingers focused on the softness of his fur. The touch grounded me, his rumbling sounds soothing.
Once the door to the room shut, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. My entire world was off-axis. I battled wave after wave of anxiety as if I’d been dumped in open water without a boat. I tried to hide it, but I was tired. Every part of me begged for reprieve. I needed to focus on what I still had control over.
I can control my body.
Assessing each limb, I cataloged every ache, tingle, or twinge. Imagining every nerve ending, I pictured traveling down each one to the end. I let my fingers run across the rug to the edge where I tucked them under and grabbed hold, feeling solidified there.
I can control my next move.
Opening my eyes, I took stock of the room. There was a large king bed, as far as I could tell from this vantage point. It had a simple frame, and a comfortable-looking covering hanging over the edge. There was a beautiful crystal chandelier that glittered above me, casting an array of sparkles across the ceiling and walls.
Pushing up, I examined the window toward the back, the door to what looked like the bathroom toward the front, the door into the hall on the side, and another door to what was probably a closet.
It took effort to stand, everything stiff.
Bill had curled up on the left side of the bed, just like he always did. His bandaged paws were wet, leaving a dark stain on the comforter, but I didn’t care. Having him here, resting like this; it felt like home.
The dark walls cast cozy shadows from the lamps on either side of the bed. I always loved a dark room, of course. While this wasn’t black, it was a good deep color of some kind, masculine and sophisticated.
Looking into the bathroom, the size surprised me. There were two sinks, and a stone counter, dark cabinets, and a large floor to ceiling shower at the back. The tile was in a clean brick pattern; the walls were glass.
Entering further, I glimpsed myself in the mirror, and winced.
I looked homeless. Iwashomeless.
My hair was dull and tangled, and my eyes were puffy with dark circles under them. My irises appeared clouded, not theclear gray tone I was used to. My arms remained bandaged under the oversized t-shirt the nurse supplied, as though I were a mummy.
Because my bra felt sticky, I almost didn’t put it back on at the hospital, but I couldn’t be around Nash without one—my nipples seemed to find him too handsome for that. The sweatpants were thick and plush, unlike the cheap t-shirt, so I’d trashed my underwear.
I can control getting comfortable again. At least externally.
Grabbing the hem of the shirt, I pulled it up and over my head. I took stock of the few bruises that had appeared, and some minor burn blisters that were treated with a greasy salve.
I unwrapped the bandages on my arms and shoulders. Mr. Beans had dug in. I smiled, glad despite the damage, that he had. Mr. Beans and Bill meant everything to me. I would have been devastated if anything had happened to them.
