“Okay. I know you’ve got a houseguest. How’s that going?”
“Fucker.”
“Not a very appropriate response from my prospect who wants me to cut him some slack…”
Glory
Another call with Lenoreand a second with Lissa, and I was exhausted. I’d taken to spending my time down in the ‘man cave’ or ‘panic room’ as I preferred to call it. It was easier to have my calls on the big screen, and then to curl up with a movie while I decompressed.
I felt like my days were their own kind of limbo now, which was jarringly similar to how it’d been before I got out. My limbo then was mired in fear, and attempting to make perfection out of every moment, so I wouldn’t get hurt. Now, though? Now it was about filling my time while I waited for Henley to get home. It was still such a struggle to remember to call him that, by the way, but I was determined to make it work. He deserved my efforts.
I hadn’t mentioned that kiss to either of my callers today, and that bothered me. Was I hiding it, or was I simply brushing it off as a one off random thing that didn’t need discussion.
“You’re hiding it, dipshit,” I murmured to myself as I tucked the fleece around me on the sofa. Truthfully, lounging on the sofa wasn’t my thing, even before the relationship from hell. I was active. I had a busy social life. Hell, I had a budding career, something I loved doing. He took it all from me, and I’d relishedthe chance to not be on 24/7 wife duty, with fear stitched into every action. Now though? I’m bored.
I threw the fleece off, and grabbed my phone, checking the time. Henley said he’d be back around six, and it was almost five. I could do what I’d declared yesterday. Cook dinner.
I hadn’t had to demand any ingredients, because as soon as I’d seen his cupboards, I’d had an instant idea. A pasta dish I’d loved making, back before Sean. I was even going to make my pasta from scratch, cut my own ravioli, and stuff them with a delicious flavourbomb of… well, I’d look again and decide that on the fly. Suddenly I was so excited! Cooking! I loved it once, before it became part of my trap. My cage. Henley wouldn’t bitch if it wasn’t perfect, hell, he’d probably eat it stone cold or raw, just to make me smile or feel better. He wouldn’t yell or hit me. I knew that.
Which is why I wouldn’t be able to figure out later why things went the way they did.
Everything was going great, with the pasta made, filled, and just going in the pan of boiling water, and the side dishes all done.
Henley walked in and called out to me, so I turned to talk to him, leaning on the island style counter between the doorway and the cooking area.
“You cooked? Aw sweetheart, I can’t fucking wait.” His smile was so wide and happy, and it felt good to put that look on his face, rather than sadness or disappointment. I made him happy, and I didn’t do it out of fear, or duty. I did it because I wanted to.
“What did you make?”
“Oh well, that’d be telling, but I did it all from scratch, and I loved every minute of it. Oh!” The timer went, and I spun to grab the pasta from the pan before it overcooked, and that’s where it went wrong. In my haste to grab the pan, I accidentally unbalanced it, and that unleashed a fiery wave ofboiling water. My scream was my first hint that I’d messed up, and that was followed rapidly by the sensation of actual flames burning their way across my forearm. The sad part was the sense of familiarity. That it’d happened before, and hadn’t been an accident. This time I did it to myself.
“Fuck! Glory, let me look at that!” Henley pulled me away from the cooker, switching off the burners as he reached for my arm. Oh god. It was blistering, and the pain. Oh god, the pain.
“Jesus, sweetheart. We need to get you to urgent care. This is… this isn’t good.”
“Ya think?” I practically screamed at him, as he grabbed his phone and scrolled on it.
“I think we’re supposed to run it under water, but it’s blistering, so I just…”
I shoved past him and turned the cold tap on, sticking my arm under it as another pained yelp unleashed from my lips. It hurt so much, the cold seemed to burn as much as the heat had, and almost my entire forearm was an angry red, and there were several large blisters already.
“Fuck. No. We’re going now.” Henley reached for my arm, gently pressing a clean towel to the underside to catch the water drops.
He groaned, catching the bracelet I wore always, fumbling with it as he unlatched it, and panic kicked in the second it was away from my skin. I thrust my left arm at him.
“Put it on me. I can’t… I don’t… I need to wear it.” He frowned but fastened it with fewer fumbles than it’d taken for him to remove it. Cupping the towel under my arm, he grabbed his car keys and led me outside. I forgot my phone in my haste, but what the hell did that matter? What mattered was getting some help with this. The cool air outside seemed to burn and sting my skin just as much as the water had. My god, would it ever stop throbbing?
Henley helped me into the car, and leaned in to carefully lock the seatbelt around me, making so much effort to avoid my arm that I wanted to scream. I knew he was being sensible, and caring, but I wanted painkillers immediately. It wasn’t his fault though, so I kept my mouth shut, except for the pained gasps and whines now and then. Sounds I realised I could make around him without him taking offence and punishing me for.
Henley drove fast, his high end Jeep a sense of luxury that I didn’t relish for once, because all my focus was on the pulsing pain in my arm. For someone who’d suffered so much violence and cruelty, you’d think my pain threshold would be higher, but this wasn’t something I could just shrug off. It was agony.
“This is all my fault,” Henley was muttering under his breath, and I think he must have murmured it a dozen times before I finally picked up on the words.
“Hey! Stop that. I did this.Me. You weren’t anywhere near me.”
He shot me a glance as he pulled up into the car park for the hospital, which thankfully was near his home, although the waiting time would be longer.
“I shouldn’t have distracted you. It was all under control, and I fucked it up.”
