Page 90 of Shattered

Turner’s lips turn up a little, his scowl disappearing, but he doesn’t quite smile at me. “With help. Lila has a lot of friends in her corner. We all take care of each other.”

“But I’m supposed to be her strength.”

“With that attitude, you never will be. She can’t be your strength right now; how do you expect to be hers? You’re both in hell, and you need to come up for airtogether. You don’t need to be strong for Lila. You just need to be there.”

I have to take a few deep breaths to absorb Turner’s words. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

“I’m not the guy to ask about love,” Turner says.

“No?”

“I have an ex-wife from a relationship riddled with the worst mistakes a man can make. But now, I just don’t see the point. I’m old. Any partner would outlast me, and do I want to subject a woman I love to that? No.”

“Dude, you’re not that old. What’re you, fifty-five?”

“Life’s short, Asher. It goes by quicker than you think.”

“Well, as cryptic as that is, you still didn’t answer my question. Is there someone you love?”

The motherfucker is pushing me for my feelings but won’t even admit his own.When he doesn’t answer, I continue.

“I never actually hurt Lila, you know. There were rules. Technically, a safe word. Everything I did to her, she wanted.” That might not be completely true, but for the most part, it is.

He turns to me, lifting a brow. “She told you that?”

“Yes, she did. I know you don’t trust me, but I promise you. I would never really hurt her, especially not now.”

Turner smiles. “We need to work together to get her through this. Not just you and me, all of us.”

“But she still doesn’t want to see anyone. She hasn’t eaten since she’s been home.”

“Give her time. It’s only been a few days.”

Time. So unreassuring.

Chapter 36

Lila

“How are we gonna do this?” Asher asks.

I need to wash up. Hours and hours of sleeping in bed with nightmares and sweats have left me feeling awful. My hair is practically glued to the back of my neck. But I can’t exactly take a shower. Thankfully, my house has two bathrooms, one on each level, both equipped with a bathtub. There’s a shower chair in the tub for Asher, along with a commode seat over the toilet. I still can’t get over the change in him, how he went from exploding at anyone who would even mention his leg to voluntarily having surgery and putting himself in a wheelchair.

“My bandages can’t get wet, so can you wash me with a cloth? Once that’s done, we’ll wash my hair over the tub. Is that okay?”

“You’re the boss,” he says.

After running some soapy water, I sit on the toilet lid, and Asher sits in front of me in his wheelchair. He starts with my upper body, keeping the bandages dry but ensuring I’m clean. Despite our closeness, I’m still a little shaky around him. I think he senses it because he’s completely professional as he washes me. In fact, his touch feels gentle, especially in the sensitive areas. Once I’m clean, he helps me towel off and change into clean underwear and sweatpants. I leave my shirt off for now so it won’t get wet.

To wash my hair, I kneel on the bathroom floor and rest my neck on the tub’s edge, letting my hair fall in. It’s not very comfortable, but it’ll have to do. Asher sits in his chair beside me, grabbing the hose that’s already loose and hanging at the bottom.

When he starts the water, it first pours from the faucet, and the sound of water thundering against the bathtub immediately puts me on edge. The running water puts me right back in the bathroom at the cabin when the brothers topped up the bath with the hottest water from the tap since I splashed so much of it out.

It makes a lump form in my stomach.

Once the shower head starts spitting water, I relax a little until it begins to run over my hair. The second the warm water hits my scalp, my whole body seizes up in a panic, and I throw my head up out of the tub, scaring the fuck out of Asher. He quickly surrounds my dripping hair with a towel so I don’t spill over my bandages.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” I cry.

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