The door opens, and Val’s gaze locks onto mine in the large, misty mirror. It darts all over, dropping to the dip in my shirt where some buttons aren’t fastened, to the wet spots caused by my hair.
I hold the dryer up. “Do you think you could dry my hair? It’s okay if...”
My words trail off because he’s already moving, taking it from my hand and turning it back on.
The hot air is so soothing now that I’m not fighting my muscles that I find myself sighing, and when the teeth of a brush follow, I can’t stop the groan.
“You’ve done this before, Dr Valentin,” I murmur, leaning back into his careful brushing.
“Not with hair this long.” Another long sweep through. “Sorry if I’m not doing it right—”
“Shhh, you’re perfect.” I haven’t opened my eyes, so I can’t really comment on his technique, but itfeelsright.
He keeps going, lowering the setting to a quieter mode, then scooping sections of hair onto a round brush, drying it, before moving on to the next. I could fall asleep in his hands if I weren’t having to stay upright.
“I used to dry my mamá’s hair,” he says suddenly, voice gentle even with the hum of the hairdryer. “She got sick when Luc and I were just kids—cancer. Our dad was always a waste of space, but when she got sicker, he left. We moved in with our abuela, our grandma, and the three of us took care of her.”
My eyes open. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
A hard lump lodges in my throat. My mouth presses into a thin line.
“We got pretty good at doing her hair, styling it. Luc can do decent makeup.” He laughs, and the deep rumble is as soothing as his fingers running through my hair. “It was then I realised I liked looking after people. So when I trained in the army, I went down the medic route.” There’s a gentle clink as he sets the brush down. “My mamá died just before we joined. One of the reasons we went.”
I blink away the sting that suddenly burns behind my eyes. Val isn’t looking in the mirror; he’s staring down at my hair, his fingers rhythmically threading through it.
“It was just the three of you?”
“As I said, Dad was a waste of space, so was his family. We had our abuela, but…” His lips pull to the side in the mirror. “I think she held on for us, for our mamá. She passed away not long after our training days.”
I reach up slowly, holding his hand and bringing it over my shoulder. His hazel eyes sweep up to meet mine again.
“I’m so sorry, Val,” I murmur, my thumb grazing over his calloused knuckles. “Thank you for telling me.” I smile softly. “And thank you for drying my hair. If you ever need some extra cash, I could use you at the salon.”
He smiles back, biting his tongue as he does, and something warm flutters deep in my belly.
“Oh yeah, a one-to-one position?” His fingers find the back of my neck, grazing the skin before squeezing gently.
A gasp slips out from the sensation, then he’s lowering his face, mouth beside my ear.
“Because I can also straighten hair.”
I groan, the sound pulled from me by both his skilled massage and his ridiculous whisper.
“What about a curling iron?” I murmur like it’s something dirty.
“Hmm, not yet, but I’m a very quick learner.” His lips brush my temple as his fingers squeeze again. “With the right teacher.”
I turn, hoping to catch his lips with mine—
Instead, I’m swept up into Val’s arms as he peers down at me. “But you’re not well enough to be teaching anyone anything right now.”
As we enter the bedroom, our eyes stay locked, his fingers tucking my freshly-dried hair behind my ear.
His gaze seems to soften in the low light, moving over every feature of my face. “We were so worried, Revea.”
“I’m sorry.” I look away, noting the bedsheets have been changed. “I… I really thought I’d ruined everything.”
