Page 30 of Captive Heart

To be free.

In fact, the idea - the reality - just terrified her.

Simply thinking about it gave Melody the sensation that she had been cast out into a vast expanse of ocean and set adrift, and the only thing it actually did for her was to make her feel seasick.

Micah noticed the shiver she gave but misinterpreted the cause.

"You're cold!" he exclaimed, putting the hairdryer down and pulling the chair out for her. "Your hair's almost dry. Let's get you into some of those warm clothes that Trinity dropped off and find something hot to drink."

He scooped her up, towel and all, and strode back to the room she'd been in earlier which had the words ‘Employee Lounge’ on a metal plate attached to the door.

Melody curled her arms around his neck and enjoyed the sensation of being carried, even though she missed him running his fingers through her hair.

She scoured her memories, trying to remember the last time anyone had genuinely cared for her like this. She had no recollection of life with her parents. Growing up, there had been no comfort or camaraderie, none of the warm affection most children shared with their parents or siblings. There had been no one to soothe or cuddle her when she was frightened or anxious.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Daddy had shown her kindness and consideration. He had looked after her and ensured she had everything she needed, but it hadn't felt like this. Melody couldn't quite work out why, though.

After setting her back down on the couch, Micah handed her a bag. "Choose what you'd like to wear," he offered. "I'll go put the kettle on and grab the medical supplies Doctor Diaz left, so we can check to see which of those wounds need attention."

As he made his way into the little kitchen annex, Melody withdrew the clothing from the carrier bag. There were some comfy pairs of yoga pants and a lovely, fluffy jumper which was so soft, it felt like a huge hug.

Next, she pulled out a couple of stretchy vests, a multipack of thick, fuzzy socks and a plain cotton shirt, not the stiff, starchy cotton, but the soft, supple type that felt warm to the skin.

Everything was brand new, with the labels still attached, and suddenly, Melody felt her eyes filling with the tears that had been so close to the surface all day. This time, she couldn't hold them back, and before she knew it, they were flowing down her face and she was sniffling with the effort to keep them at bay.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Micah demanded, urgency clear in his voice as he came hurrying back into the room carrying a mug of herbal tea. "Are you in pain?"

He placed the cup and also some medical supplies on the side table and sat down next to her.

Melody couldn't help herself. She turned in the seat and curled into the security of Micah's big, strong body. As she threw her arms around his comfortingly sturdy frame and cuddled up to him, she managed, at least, to shake her head, so he knew she wasn't hurting.

This entire day had been so surreal, with all these people who didn't know her and had no reason to bother helping her.

Dr. Diaz, who checked her over and gave her medication.

The owners she hadn't been awake to see, giving permission for her to stay here.

Trinity, a woman she’d never met, going out and shopping for her.

Micah, cleaning and feeding and tending to her.

And now, there were clothes! Brand new clothes that were just for her.

They weren't hand me downs or charity shop buys like she got in the foster homes. They weren't childish dresses like Daddy had dressed her in. And they weren't slutty lingerie like the brute had sometimes insisted she wear when he invited his friends around.

They were lovely, proper outfits, especially for her.

She felt Micah's arms curve around her somewhat tentatively, lightly, like she was something fragile and special.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked Trinity to pick you up some underwear," he told her remorsefully. "But I thought it would rub too much on your injuries. I thought vests and leggings would be comfortable enough without, but I can organise getting some for you if you like."

Melody just cried all the harder.

"It's not that," she sobbed in between snuffling and blubbering. "It's everything!" She hiccupped and fisted her hands in his tee shirt.

He smelled good. What the hell was she thinking that for, at a time like this, when she was in the middle of having some weird, emotional meltdown? She laughed at herself, and it came out sounding decidedly hysterical. Oh, God!

"You all helped me when you could have just left me outside and saved yourselves the bother," she muffled into the fabric of his top.

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