“I know. The guilt… God, the guilt overtook everything.”
“How long have you been out here?”
“About an hour, maybe? I don’t know. After you left, I went and talked to Lennox.” We’re both quiet, me thinking about how hard that conversation was for him.
“That’s pretty big,” I mutter.
His surprised chuckle hits me right in the chest, and I smile.
“It was so fucking hard,” he whispers.
“But you did it.”
“But I did it,” he agrees with a sigh. “It helped a lot.”
“I’m very thankful.” I hug him tighter to me before he grunts in pain. “Shit, your side and your arm. I’m an asshole.”
“No, you’re not. But I think maybe going inside and getting more comfortable would help.” He leans back, looking into my eyes.
My mind turns dirty in a split second. James Oakley dripping wet, with an earnest look in his eyes, is a sight to behold, and I realize just how much I’ve missed him during all of this.
“Probably don’t look at me like you want to rip my clothes off. We have a lot to talk about, and this damn stab wound won’t let me fuck you the way I really want to.”
“Damn, I missed your mouth.” I tip my head back on a groan.
“Up. Now, woman. Shower, then snuggle in bed, so we can talk.”
“Did you just use the word ‘snuggle’?”
“In the context of doing it with you? I sure as hell did.” He says it with no shame, and somehow this little sparring match soothes the last of my chaotic thoughts. We’ll get back to us, even if it takes some time.
I carefully untangle my limbs from his and hold my hand out to help him. He groans as he stands up, one hand going to his injured side.
“I’m sorry.” I cringe at causing him pain.
“No, it’s all good. It’s more stiff than anything, I promise.”
I eye him with skepticism, especially because I have a vague memory of the doctor saying he was going to have to stay a few days. This is certainly not a few days.
I quickly unlock the door, getting us out of the rain.
We both step in, the sound of the rain quieting behind the closed door. Eyes locked, the electrical current usually between us sparks to life.
“Will…” Oakley warns.
“I know, I know. Shower.” I blink out the haze and move toward the bathroom.
I don’t even bother with privacy or a sense of modesty. He’s seen all of me before, and although I’m sure both of us would absolutely be okay with some sex, I think we both realize that’s not actually going to happen tonight. There’s too much to work through, and brushing things under the rug isn’t an option.
Stripping as I walk, I turn the hot water on and wait. James joins me a minute later, stripping slowly so his stiches don’t pull.
“Did you talk them into letting you out early?” I ask, staring at where he got stabbed and seeing the fresh bandage. A flash of Tennison thrusting his knife at him enters my brain, and I squeeze my eyes shut to get rid of it.
“Trouble.” His hand grips my shoulder, and my eyes pop open. “I’m fine. I may have left a little early, but what were they really keeping me there for anyway? To monitor the stitches? Look for infection? I can do that, no big deal.” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes at him.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I tell him as I jump into the shower.
I watch him gently remove the bandage on his wound on his side and arm before carefully moving to the shower. He opens the door andslides in, careful to keep the bad side out of the water. He angles himself perfectly to keep the stitches dry while still being close to me.
