Page 97 of Rebellion

He nodded and moved the armchair away as she climbed from the bed. She felt a bit lightheaded but squashed that feeling.

Shuffling toward the bathroom, she was surprised as he moved with her.

“Uh, what are you doing?” she asked as he entered the bathroom.

“I’m going to stay in here while you shower.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Because I’m not going to risk your back seizing up again and you ending up on the floor, unable to fucking move,” he told her firmly.

“Um, well, I don’t think that will happen. My back is much better this morning. But if you’re that worried, you can wait in the bedroom.”

He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “Stop arguing with me over something that’s necessary for your health and safety and get in the shower.”

“It’s my health and safety,” she pointed out.

“Yes, it is.”

She threw her hands up into the air, more irritated over how rational he sounded than by what he was actually saying. “So I shouldn’t get a say?”

“When you make the right choices.”

She narrowed her gaze as she glared at him. “And I suppose you staying in here is the right choice?”

“Look at you making the right choice. You need to turn the shower on, lass. Let the water warm up a bit before you get in.” He frowned. “Or is it too slippery for you to get in and out of? Perhaps I should lift you in and out.”

She sighed. “I can get in and out of the shower on my own, thank you very much.”

The man was impossible, but Sofia knew he was so stubborn that she’d be here arguing all day if she didn’t give in; besides, she really wanted to shower.

And to pee.

“I need to use the toilet.”

His other eyebrow rose. “Not unexpected after all that coffee.” He nodded to it. “There you are.”

“Colm!” she said with exasperation. “You cannot stay in here while I pee!”

“Pretty sure I can.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“You might need help getting on and off the toilet.”

She threw her hands into the air. It seemed to be becoming a common gesture around him. The only outlet for her Colm-induced exasperation.

“I don’t.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Trust me. I can manage the toilet. And the shower. I’m a big girl. I’ve been toileting and showering myself for a long time. Last night wasn’t a normal occurrence.”

He didn’t look happy, but he did move toward the door.

“The door stays open, though.”

“No peeking! Or listening!”

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