The shower turned on, the sound of water beating against the tile floor.
“Heating up the water for your shower,” he said, returning to the bedroom. He took my hand. “Come on, mouse.”
“I don’t want to take a shower.”
“Maybe not, but it’s time.”
“Are you saying I stink?” I’d been washing with soap and a washcloth in my bathroom sink, had even managed to wash my hair there.
It was messy and challenging — twice I’d bumped the gash on my forehead on the faucet — but it was less risky than taking a shower alone and less humiliating than asking one of the Hawks to help me with something as intimate as bathing.
He pulled me to my feet. “Not at all. You might be a little… ripe, but I’m not opposed to ripe when it comes to you.”
He must have seen my cheeks burning because he lifted my chin, as if it mattered.
As if I could see him.
“You’re beautiful, and I still want to bang you every time I look at you, which even I’m willing to admit is a little pervy, but you can’t avoid the shower forever.”
I tried to pull away. “I’ll do it myself.”
“Not this time, mouse. Now let’s go.”
I let him lead me across the bedroom, mostly because putting up a fight would have been even more embarrassing than giving in. It had been a while since I’d seen his muscles — since I’d seen anyone’s muscles — but I felt his strength in his grasp of my hand.
If he really chose to fight me on the shower, I wasn’t going to win, and I didn’t put it past him to throw me over his shoulder and drop me in the shower fully clothed, not because he was mean but because like all of the Hawks, Vigo did whatever he wanted to do, and right now he wanted me to take a shower.
The warm wood floor under my bare feet changed to cool tile, the sound of the shower louder in the bathroom.
“Let’s go over a few things,” Vigo said. “You’ll be able to do this yourself in no time. We could even install some guide rails for you.”
“I don’t want guide rails.” My eyes burned with tears. I had a follow-up visit scheduled with a specialist, but I was still hoping my vision would return.
“I know,” he said. “And you probably won’t need them, but it’s an option.”
He spent a few minutes walking me around the bathroom, counting steps from the sink to the shower, the shower to the toilet. He guided my hand to the bar on one of the shower doors, showing me that I could use it for balance while I undressed or dried off, explaining ways I could eventually navigate the space to take a shower or a bath alone.
It was nice but it was also terrifying.
“What if I’m never able to see again?”
I felt his hands on my face, could almost see the smattering of freckles across his nose, a playful surprise on his model-gorgeous face. Could almost see the light in his green eyes.
“Then you’ll figure it out,” he said. “We’llfigure it out.”
I didn’t ask him what that meant. The last thing I wanted was for the Hawks to feel responsible for me, to feelobligatedto take care of me.
Because the truth was, I’d been alone a long time. And yeah, I’d had Bram for financial support. I’d always known if I needed something — anything — Bram would move heaven and earth to see that I got it.
But I was just beginning to realize that there had been other things I’d been without.
Other ways in which I’d been alone.
I’d gotten used to weathering uncertainty and self-doubt alone — had gotten used to being lonely — and instead of making me weak, it had made me strong. That strength had been an advantage before. I didn’t have to ask Bram for help, for emotional support, because I hadn’t needed it.
Or I thought I hadn’t anyway.
But this was something I couldn’t do alone, and I was surprised by how much I hated the reality.
