Page 64 of Craving Chaos

“Whatever, you’ll be rolling your eyes at me in no time once I’m back.” A grin finally lights my face and warms my heart. This feels good. Normal. I could use a big fat dose of normal.

“Let’s hope so. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Love you, Oran. See you soon.”

“Love you, too. Be safe until then.”

“Always.”

The call ends, its bolstering effects infusing me with renewed energy and optimism. Things may not be ideal, but I get to see my family soon. That’s the best gift I could receive.

Food and a shower are a close second and third. I set down the phone and dive into the white paper bag full of caloric goodness. However, things quickly sour. Turns out when you eat fast food after three weeks of meat and veggies, your stomach decides she’s a little diva and can’t tolerate such filth.

A burger and fries never tasted so good or sat so heavy in my gut.

I need to shower. That will make everything better.

I get the water started and strip out of my clothes. We should have thought ahead and bought something to wear while we were out, but it’s too late for that. Hopefully, I can get housekeeping to wash them because there’s no way in hell I’m putting them back on until they’ve been thoroughly scrubbed, and even then, only because I have no other choice. Every stitch of fabric at my feet is going in the garbage the second I’m home. Along with a match and some gasoline.

I’m about to step into the shower when I lock eyes with myself in the mirror. I was too mortified to look at the mirror in the hospital bathroom, knowing all the people around me were having to smell me. The mental image made it all worse, so I avoided looking, but I’m alone now, and I take in the shocking sight before me.

I knew I’d lost weight, but I’m shocked at the gaunt face staring back at me. This confirms it. I did switch bodies with someone. It’s the only explanation because I don’t recognize my own reflection.

I take in the image of me from the waist up, then try to shut it out of my mind. I’m about to shower, and nothing is going to ruin that.

I inhale a deep steamy breath of air and smile as I step in.

There’s nothing quite like an orgasm, but if there was, it would be the feel of hot water pelting your body after three weeks with only a cold, wet rag for bathing.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

That’s the only way I know how to describe it. There are no other words.

I rotate every so often to let the water scour my front, then my back, and so on. Then I scrub. Every square inch of skin gets lathered in hibiscus perfection. Twice.

I shave my overgrown body hair, thanks to a disposable razor from housekeeping when we checked in, then I stand in the shower so long that I wonder if it’s possible for a hotel to run out of hot water. If so, I have to be pushing that limit. I have zero guilt. I figure I’m using my three weeks’ worth of showers in one.

When I finally turn off the spray and dry off, it’s only because I’m dead on my feet exhausted. I go right to the bed after brushing my teeth and start to slide under the mounds of puffy linens when I see the burner phone on my nightstand. I told Renzo I’d bring it back to him and completely forgot about it.

I stare at the phone. He might need to talk to his people about getting us home. I need to get it back to him.

My gaze warily turns back to the bathroom, where I left my putrid clothes piled. There’s no way. I can’t possibly make myself put those rank, filthy rags back on.

Hell.

I yank the quilted duvet off the bed and wrap it around me as securely as I can without letting it drag on the floor, then I grab the phone and head to Renzo’s room.

CHAPTER 37

RENZO

The creature comforts that should thrill me hardly register. I have a full belly in a cozy hotel room and am clean and shaven for the first time in weeks. I should be savoring every gluttonous second, but instead, I feel numb inside. I sit on the edge of the cushy bed wrapped in a clean towel and feel nothing except disdain at the thought of sleeping alone.

That was my favorite part about our time at the cabin. No matter how irritated we were with one another during the day, I knew she’d still be wrapped in my arms come bedtime. And not because we needed the heat. We both found comfort in that physical connection and the security of knowing it was there to bolster us at the end of every day.

I miss it so much that I consider going next door and insisting Shae give me another chance. But now that reality is setting in, I realize that I don’t know what to say to her. As adamant as I was that things would magically work out, I don’t truly have a solution. How can I go ask for her trust without being certain I can hold up my end of the bargain?

I don’t have the answer except for one obvious option. One that would upend my life as I know it—that would crumble the legacy my father worked so hard to pass along and cast me into unknown waters. I’m shocked that I’ve even allowed the idea to materialize, but the fact that I have tells me how much Shae means to me.

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