Page 125 of Honeyfires

After dinner, after she'd successfully gotten half a plate of pasta into me, she ran a bath.

I heard the water running from the kitchen, heard her moving around in the bathroom, the clink of bottles being moved. When she returned, she held out her hand without a word.

"Vera, I can bathe myself."

“You’ve let me wash you countless times.

“This is different. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” Her expression was patient, determined. "But you don't have to."

I stared at her extended hand, at the woman who kept choosing to love me even when I was broken and difficult and drowning in guilt. Who kept showing up, kept fighting for me, kept refusing to let me disappear into my spiral.

I took her hand.

The bathroom was full of steam, the air thick and warm. She'd lit candles, not for romance, but for comfort, their flickering light softer than the harsh overhead bulb. The tub was full, the water just shy of too hot, and she'd added lavender oil that made the whole room smell like peace.

She helped me undress, her fingers gentle on the hem of my shirt, patient with my belt and jeans. When I was naked, she guided me into the tub, and the heat of the water was such a shock to my system that I gasped.

"Too hot?" she asked immediately.

"No." I sank down, letting the water cover me to my shoulders. "It's perfect."

She knelt beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, and reached for the shampoo. Her fingers worked through my hair, massaging my scalp with firm, methodical pressure that made my eyes close involuntarily. She rinsed it carefully, one hand cupped over my forehead to keep the water from my eyes, then repeated the process with conditioner.

I should have been mortified. I was a grown adult who'd survived war, who'd faced down wildfires and insurgents and every conceivable kind of danger. I should have been capable of bathing myself. But I couldn't find the energy to protest, couldn't summon the pride to push her away.

So I just let her take care of me.

She washed my back with a soft cloth, her movements gentle but thorough. Washed my arms, my hands, my fingers one by one like each digit was important and precious and worth every second she spent on it. When she was done, she pressed a kiss to my damp shoulder.

"Stay as long as you need," she said. "I'll get you something comfortable to wear."

She left me alone in the lavender-scented water, the candles casting shifting shadows on the walls. I stayed until the water started to cool, until I could feel my muscles finally, finally beginning to unknot themselves.

When I emerged, toweled off and wrapped in my softest t-shirt and sleep shorts, Vera was waiting in the bedroom. Our bed was turned down, the lamp on her nightstand casting a warm glow. She was already under the covers, and when she saw me, she lifted the blanket in invitation.

I climbed in beside her, and she immediately pulled me close, her arms wrapping around me, holding me like I might still break again any second.

"You don't get to disappear on me," she said into the darkness, her voice soft but absolute. "I need you here."

"I'm trying," I whispered.

"I know." Her hand stroked down my spine, soothing. "But you're not alone in this. Let me carry some of it."

"You shouldn't have to deal with this." The guilt was back, different now but just as intense. "This isn't your burden."

"But I do." Her arms tightened around me. "Because I love you. And that means the good days and the bad days. The days when you're strong and the days when you're falling apart. All of it, Petra. I choose all of it. I choose you."

Warmth flooded through my body, chasing away some of the cold that had been living there since the grocery store, since the hospital, since I'd turned in my gear and walked away from the only job that had ever made me feel whole.

She really meant it, I realized, finally letting myself believe it. She wasn't going anywhere. Even when I was at my worst, she stayed.

"I love you," I said, my voice raw with emotion. "So much."

"I love you too, baby." She pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Now sleep. Tomorrow we'll figure out the next step. Find that lawyer, work out the details. But tonight, just sleep."

I closed my eyes, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her warmth seep into my bones. The guilt was still there; it would probably always be there, a constant companion I'd learn to carry. The suspension was still hanging over me, the investigation still ongoing, the possibility of losing my career still very real.