Page 12 of Beck and Call

Over the last year I'd gotten pretty good at getting ready in this postage stamp sized bathroom. I was pretty good at twisting without moving too much to reach the awkwardly placed shelves in the dead space between the sink and the shower. This morning, however, I managed to hit my elbow on the corner of the shower while I tried to brush my hair.

"Ouch," I yelped.

Beckett burst into the bathroom, bumping me with the door. I stumbled back and fell against the sink hitting my hip on the corner of the counter.

"Shit," I hissed in pain.

He picked me up off the floor and helped me walk to the futon. My hip ached so bad I forgot for a minute I was only wearing a towel.

"Lean back," he ordered.

I narrowed my eyes at him but hesitantly leaned back on my elbows. It wasn't enough for whatever he was thinking, and he grabbed my ankles and pulled until I was on my back. The towel slid dangerously high up my thighs, and I reached to pull it down.

He smirked at me. "You need to get comfortable with the idea of me seeing you naked, but you don't need to worry right now. I want to see your hip."

He rolled me until I was mostly on my uninjured side, and slowly lifted part of the towel. "This is going to be a nasty bruise. Do you have an ice pack?"

I shook my head and pointed across the room. "There's only a mini fridge in here."

"This place isn't good enough for you," he whispered.

"It's better than where I began." And it was. No matter how hard the present was, the past was littered with broken hearts and dreams.

Chapter Five

Beckett ended up sending his driver out for an ice pack, despite my protests. My bruised hip was nothing compared to my pride. I felt clumsy and ridiculous, and not even slightly sexy.

He went through my clothes and pulled out yoga pants and a long sweater. "You should at least be comfortable in these."

"Did you have to find the ugliest clothes I own?"

"How am I supposed to tell? For a beautiful woman, you have a lot of ugly clothes. These particular items only have to cover you until we make it to Berlin. We can have a bonfire for the rest when we get back."

I rolled my eyes. "We aren't burning my clothes."

"Fine, we'll donate them, because I plan to replace all of that." He waved in the general vicinity of my closet.

I realized I was fighting to keep clothes I actually hated. Most of them were purchased from the thrift store, and none of them made me feel special or pretty. "Whatever, you're the boss."

I caught him smirking out of the corner of my eye as I went into the bathroom to change.

The bruise looked worse than it felt. It was an angry red color and a bit swollen. Not that I would have been able to distinguish the pain from the rest of my aches and pains. My entire body felt like one big bruise on a daily basis thanks to sleeping on a lumpy futon.

I came out of the bathroom and put my towel in my hamper. "I'm as ready as I'm going to get."

"I'll let my driver know we're on our way down." Once out my door, Beckett looked up and down the hallway. "I didn't see an elevator when I got here and took the stairs. There is an elevator, isn't there?"

I blinked several times, somehow knowing, despite not really knowing him, that he wasn't going to take the news well. "There isn't one. I mean, there is one, but it’s been broken for a while."

He inhaled a deep breath and held it. "Your apartment is the size of my coat closet, located in a questionable neighborhood, and there's no working elevator?"

"Hey, the neighborhood is up and coming."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We'll have to correct this situation. There's no way I can relax picturing you stored in here for the night."

"Stored?"

His blue eyes narrowed. "Yes, stored. I'm willing to bet my cleaning supplies have more room than you do."

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