Page 24 of A Wolf in the Garden

“If you want some time to enjoy the warmth, I’ll wash first,” I tell her. Maybe I can distract myself, at least a little, by focusing on washing my own body.

She nods, humming in assent. “Sounds good. Give me five minutes, just like this. This shower is amazing.”

I wash quickly, still sneaking glances at her every now and then. I catch her doing the same; each time she gives me a shy smile or a little laugh, running her uninjured hand over her body, washing away the last of the sand that had clung to her legs and feet.

“I already feel so much better,” she announces. The uncontrollable shivering has stopped and her skin no longer looks sallow, though her fatigue is still evident in the slant of her shoulders and the tiredness in her eyes.

“I can tell. I’m glad you’re not shaking anymore. You had me worried.”

“I had me worried too.” Her throat clicks with an audible swallow, her eyes and lips growing red, the way they always have when she’s about to cry. “Thank you. I…” She licks her lips, glancing away, her free hand wrapping around herself, and she looks so forlorn standing there. The urge to comfort her is overwhelming. “Thank you, Van. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

That’s the second time she’s said that today, and I think about her life on this island; the few friends that she has here, all in their late-sixties and seventies, other than Cameron. I imagine her at home in her garden, alone in her tiny house, filling in the hours of each day by herself, and I wonder if she’s been as lonely as I have been these past few years. Perhaps she’s been even more so than I have; until recently, I’ve always had a large pack to rely on at the very least.

I step forward, soap in my hand. “Let me wash your back for you.” Really, it’s just an excuse to touch her, to let her know that I am here, to stop her from wrapping her arm around herself as if it is the only thing physically holding herself together. She melts under my touch, sighing as I dig my thumbs into the tight muscles of her shoulders.

“Oh, that’s good.”

She’s always loved massages. The memory of her laying out on her stomach across my bed in Bluewater Bay comes to mind, making me smile as I remember the way she’d wiggle her ass at me, blatantly hinting that she wanted a back rub.

“I’ll give you a proper massage, later, if you like.”

“Hmmm, yes please, I’d love that.”

I don’t know what we’re doing here, right now. The incident with the fae has pushed us into a level of intimacy that I’ve been secretly hoping we’d get to soon, but hadn’t expected us to reach yet. I worry that it’s just the day’s events influencing her judgement, that the bubble we’re in right now will burst. That she hasn’t actually forgiven me.

“Van?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a spare toothbrush? I know that’s a weird request but…”

“I’ve got one. You want it now?” At her nod I step away, out of the shower and over to the vanity, ignoring the fact that I’m dripping water everywhere in favour of retrieving her a new toothbrush from the three-pack I picked up from the local store on the day I flew in. I spread toothpaste over it, before returning to the shower. “What made you throw up? Was it —”

“It was just the shock of reading that article, and,” she waves her hand around in an all encompassing gesture, “the whole thing.”

I hand her the toothbrush. “Which you’ll explain to me when we’re done here.”

“Mmhm. Thank you.” I step back, giving her a bit of space to clean her teeth while I wash my face. It feels so domestic, and there’s a tightness in my chest becauseI want this with her. I want the boring and the mundane, the daily routines, cooking dinner together and eating it on the couch. I want a life with her. No other woman has ever made me feel this way, nor have I ever let anyone else know me the way Ellie already does. It was always meant to be her, even when I couldn’t have her.

When I open my eyes after rinsing the soap off, she is blatantly staring at my body, teeth biting at her lower lip, not an ounce of shame or embarrassment on her face at being caught. My feelings are unmistakable — it’s not like I’ve got anywhere to hide my rock hard dick — so I throw caution into the wind and don’t bother to turn away as I lather soap over it, pulling back the foreskin, washing turning into more of a show for her as my grip tightens, my hand sliding up and down my cock with practised ease while we stare at each other.

She grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I thought you said you were going to behave.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh no, not at all. I just wish I didn’t have to hold a freaking ice pack like this,” she adds, nodding towards her outstretched arm. “I’d be inclined to come and help you, otherwise.”

It’s a good reminder that there’s other shit going on that we need to deal with, as much as I’d love to fuck her right now. “I can wash your hair.”

She gives me another shy smile, eyes full of warmth despite the fatigue, and turns her back to me, her eyes closing once more as she steps under the spray again. I hold her by the shoulders, gently manoeuvring her to where I want so I can lather shampoo through her hair. She hums appreciatively as I massage her scalp, leaning into my touch, so much so that she ends up pressed against my front, my erection pressing against the small of her back.

Fuck. If the circumstances were different, I’d have her up against the wall in a heartbeat. I do my best to ignore the sensation of her body against my cock, even though each small movement of hers leaves my balls aching more and more, the drag of her skin against the head enough to make me want to explode. “Ellie,” I warn as I tilt her chin back so I can rinse out her hair, “are you trying to tease me?”

Her eyes are closed, her head leaning back against my chest, but her full lips curve in a playful smile. She is gloriously beautiful. “Maybe,” she admits softly.

Now is not the timemy mind warns, and it’s enough to make me stop for a moment. This isn’t some random hookup. This is Ellie. Our lives have been intertwined since I was six years old, and I already know how much of a fool I’ve been for letting nine years pass by without her. I’m not about to do anything that will mess things up further, not when I don’t know what’s going through her mind right now.

“What’s changed?” I ask. She opens her eyes, searching my face, turning around so she can properly look at me.

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