Page 97 of Picture Perfect

"Vamos," I coax, gently leading her inside the house. The bungalow is modest but cared for, a stark contrast to the manicured lawns and sterile halls of the Winthrop estate. It feels real in a way that my gilded cage never could.

"¿Dónde está tu baño?" I ask. She points, and I guide her toward the small bathroom. It's clean but worn, every surface telling a story of lives lived fully and without pretense.

"Okay, Carmen, let's get you cleaned up." I keep my voice steady, a rock in her stormy sea of embarrassment and shock. She nods, clinging to my calm like a lifeline. Chess hovers in the doorway, uncertainty etched into his features, but he doesn't intrude.

"Te voy a buscar—I'm going to help, okay?" I promise, reassuring her before turning to Chess. "Your mom should have at least some of what she needs."

"Grandma, actually," he replies, gratitude softening his voice. "And I think she's a little past the age of...this."

I rummage through cabinets and drawers until I find the necessary supplies to at least get started cleaning her up. Returning my attention to Carmen, I help her with gentle instructions, explaining each step, my voice a soothing murmur.

"Are you okay?" I ask once we've sorted everything out. She nods, a shy smile cracking through her unease.

"Gracias," she whispers, and something warm unfurls in my chest.

"De nada, Carmen. Anytime."

Chess watches us, an unreadable expression on his face. But for now, I push away thoughts of tangled relationships and uncertain futures. Right now, there's only Carmen and the simple act of being there for someone in need. And that's enough.

"Chess, if your grandmother doesn't have what she needs, you're going to need to run to the store. She'll need pads when she gets out of the shower. Grab some ibuprofen, and maybe some chocolate too?" I suggest, hoping to ease Carmen's discomfort with familiar remedies.

"Got it," Chess nods, snatching up his keys from the cluttered countertop. His hazel eyes meet mine, a silent promise lingering in their depths that he'll be fast. "I'll be back before you know it." He plants a kiss on my lips and with that, he's out the door, leaving me with Carmen who's still looking a little lost.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I say, leading her to the shower. The small house feels cozier now, less like a stranger's and more like a place where life happens, messy and real. I turn the water on for her. She's so busy wringing her hands, I'm not sure she even realizes where we are.

"I'll be right outside the door, okay. And don't worry about your clothes. I know how to get blood out."

"Can you...can you stay?"

"Of course, I can. Why don't I sit in the hallway and we'll leave the door open. That way you can have the privacy you need and I'll still be here."

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice muffled by the fabric. "I don't...I don't know your name."

"Addy. I'm Addy."

"Thank you, Addy."

"Hey, no worries. It's what girls do for each other," I reply, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

We chat about school, about favorite music—anything to keep her mind off the cramps and the panic. I share a few embarrassing stories from my past, and soon enough, her tentative giggles fill the space between us.

The front door swings open, cutting through our bubble. Chess strides in, bags in hand, and relief washes over me at the sight of him. He's done as I asked, a knight on a modern steed, returning with provisions.

"Mission accomplished," he announces triumphantly, setting the bags down and crouching beside me in the hall. His dark hair flops into his eyes, and there's an eagerness to his movements that wasn't there before.

"Thank you, Chess," I say, standing to give him room. He rifles through the bags, handing me the painkillers and a bar of chocolate.

"Dark chocolate, ninety percent cocoa. That's the good stuff," he winks at me, and Carmen responds with a weak but genuine smile.

"Could you get her some water?" I ask, and he's up again, moving to the kitchen.

"Ice Princess my ass," I hear him mutter under his breath, and I can't help but smile. It's strange, this dynamic shift, but not unwelcome.

Carmen turns the water off and grabs the towel before opening the curtain. She looks a little better than she did when we got her. At least she's calm now.

I pour two ibuprofen pills into my hand and hand them over to her. "Your brother is grabbing water. After you can grab your clothes and I can walk you through what to do with the pad, okay?

Chess returns, hands Carmen a glass, and then turns to me. There's an intensity in his gaze that pins me in place. It's like he's seeing me for the first time, or perhaps it's just the first time he's allowed himself to really look.

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