After a while, the numb, floating feeling takes hold, and I blink through clumped eyelashes, staring vaguely at the wall without seeing it.
A knock on the bathroom door startles me. Before I can dredge up an answer, the door swings open to reveal Colter, filling the entire frame. His head nearly hits the doorjamb.
I start to shake my head, clearing my throat so I can tell him that I need another minute, but the giant, silent alpha simply closes the door behind himself, steps over my feet, and reaches for the knob that starts the shower, which is literally just the back half of the bathroom, only delineated by a rod and curtain.
He turns the spray on full blast, all the way to hot, letting the warm hiss fill the space instead of words.
Then he grabs a washrag from a small shelf and holds it out to me.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t touch. Doesn’t judge. Doesn’t force.
He’s just…here.
Just waiting.
Like a newborn calf, I rise on shaky legs.
18
BRYLEE
Only after myfingers and toes are raisiny enough to be included in cereal, only after I’ve stolen every drop of hot water the hospital has, do I emerge from the shower.
The steam floats in the air like a warm fog, and I can’t see Colter through it for a second.
But then I spot him leaning against the sink counter, a towel waiting in his hand. I take it and dry myself off, trying not to notice the self-conscious goose bumps on my arms.
He’s seen me naked.
Seen me sobbing, which is worse.
Roughly swiping off the last drops of water, I don’t make eye contact as my gaze sweeps the floor, looking for my dirty dress. I’m not eager to put that thing back on, but it’s all I have.
Except it’s not there.
Colter finally makes a noise. A slow, guttural throat-clearing.
I glance up at him, trying to read his expression through the skull mask. But his face remains carefully neutral as he holds up a giant, alpha-male sized gray sweatshirt in one hand and a plain white undershirt in the other.
“Guys got you something in the gift shop. That was all they had—no pants, so they got something large. Or…” The white shirt swings up a bit. “Kylian volunteered to go shirtless, in case you needed a comforting smell.”
Kylian’s not mad at me?
My lips press together and twist to the side as shaky breaths saw in and out. That shirt feels a lot like forgiveness.
Fuck. I swipe my fingers beneath my eyes to swab away the new set of tears threatening to unleash. That’s the last thing I need right now.
Alpha mode, Brylee.
Alpha, not omega.
Forcing out a deep exhale, I quickly swipe Kylian’s shirt from Colter and slide the material down my body. It falls to mid-thigh, but it’s definitely not thick enough to hide the fact that I don’t have any panties.
The sweatshirt goes on over it, though my nose crinkles in distaste at the antiseptic new-clothes smell.
Colter tilts his head and studies me for a second. I could be mistaken, but I think a smile might be playing at the edges of his lips.
Then he grabs a brush off the counter behind him and holds that out too. “Here. Also from the gift shop.”
