Page 95 of Bae

“You’re showering, too.”

“I’ve had just about enough of your bossy attitude tonight,” I intoned.

“You have dust and powder all over you from the airbag,” he uttered right back. “And there’s blood on your shirt.”

Of course there was.

He cleared his throat, speaking in a softer, more vulnerable tenor. “And I’m not letting you out of arm’s distance. Don’t ask me to do that, Rim. Not tonight.”

My heart tumbled beneath my ribs. “I’m right here.”

The shower wasn’t eventful, at least not in the sexual sense. True to his word, he didn’t leave my side. He touched me. He washed me. He ran his fingers through my wet hair… but it wasn’t because he was turned on.

It was almost as if he were reassuring himself I was here.

I returned the caresses and stuck to him like glue. I washed his body and used my slick hands to knead the muscles of his back and neck. He was so tense he felt like granite beneath my hands.

I was tired, yes. But never so tired to give him what he needed. Right now he needed this.Me.It wasn’t often Romeo was like this, so I wanted to make sure he knew when he was, it was okay, and I would always,alwaysgive him what he needed.

Afterward, we dried quickly, and I smoothed some moisturizer on my face. The skin there burned a bit, and I knew just from the feeling I’d likely wake up with some kind of rash from the airbag.

Romeo dressed in nothing but a pair of loose, ratty light-gray sweats. They hung low on his hips, accentuating the prominent V-shape at his lower half.

The ends of his wet blond hair curled up at his neck and stuck out. He looked tired. Worn out. Something I wasn’t used to seeing.

I pulled on an old Alpha U T-shirt and then picked up my brush to try and get through my hair. Behind me, Romeo took the brush and started working it through my ends before moving up to brush the entire length.

I shut my eyes as goose bumps raced over my scalp. The worst of the night drained away. Well, no. Not the worst.

The worst was he was angry with me.

“Tell me why you’re mad,” I said, opening my eyes to gaze at him through the mirror.

“I’m not just mad,” he replied, still brushing.

“Then what are you?”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. “Guilty.”

Guilty! What in the world would he be guilty of?

“My accident wasnotyour fault.”

He shook his head once. “That’s not what I’m guilty of.”

“Then what?” I pressed.

He glanced away. Then in the mirror, our eyes met again. “Guilty of loving you more than I loved our daughter.”

Romeo

The truth comes out. It always does.

Not that there had ever been a lie. I’d just kept quiet about some of my deepest thoughts. I wanted to protect her.

To protect myself.

I felt guilty. Painfully so. Like the worst kind of man.

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