Page 86 of Brother's Keeper

Rather than answer, Nash stood and reached past me to turn the shower on. In a matter of seconds, the air began to cloud with steam.

He moved to the sink, lathering his hands with a bar of soap then rinsing them under the faucet. While he dried them on the hanging towel, I caught his expression in the foggy mirror. He looked distant, pensive.

“I’m going to check on Ripley,” he said. “Take your time. I’ll be close by.”

I nodded, feeling numbness creeping in again. Not from cold or immobility, rather a response I’d trained into myself after years of practice. When it came to feeling things—namely anguish or remorse—I could deal with them on or off. Donovan said he hated off, but I liked it so much better.

The feelings came back.Washing the blood off my chest and arms and scraping it from under my fingernails removed the tenuous barrier between me and rock bottom. I knew the stages of grief, and I had them all out of order. I would have given anything for a little denial right now.

The weight of everything drove me down until Nash returned and tugged the shower curtain aside. He looked at where I sat huddled, shivering in the spray that had gone cold some time ago.

“I was starting to worry you’d drowned in here,” he joked but, instead of humor on his face, I saw only sorrow.

Rubbing my face mingled tears with the water dripping from my hair. “I thought about it,” I mumbled.

He cranked the knob off and grabbed a towel before stepping into the tub. Stooping, he used one end to wipe my chapped cheeks. I thought to tellhim not to bother. With fresh tears already brewing, they wouldn’t stay dry long.

I curled up with my knees under my chin as Nash draped the towel across my body. The warmth brought immediate relief, lessening the ache in my chest as a shiver shook me.

My eyes burned as I squeezed them shut. I didn’t see him sit beside me, but I felt him crowding in. A sob clogged my throat as I crawled into his lap and looped my arms around his neck. I pressed my chilled, wet body against his dry one.

He returned the embrace, squeezing me tightly. That usually calmed me, but nothing could quiet the internal storm that had been raging for hours now.

“Nash, I need something,” I whispered.

“What, baby?”

“I need to forget. Forget tonight, forget the gang, forget my entire fucked-up life…” I drew a stuttering breath. “Can you give me something? Please?” Pulling back, I stared at him, shamefully desperate.

He frowned, considering the reply before he gave it. “You can’t forget Donovan, Fitch. He’s part of you.”

I sniffed and wiped the towel over my snotty nose. “Then I’ll forget me, too. We’ll all be better off.”

Nash caught my chin in a tender grip, holding me level. “Don’t say things like that.”

Frustration balled in my chest and pounded like a fist against my ribs, demanding release. I winced and shook Nash’s hand away. “Please,” I hissed. “I can’t… I can’t take this. It hurts.”

“I know.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead, but Ifought that off, too.

“If you know, then fix it!”

While emotions mounted in me, Nash stayed maddeningly calm.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Then what good are you?” Force lashed out of me, throwing him against the tub wall. There was the anger. The catharsis. I wanted to chase it, bury myself in it. But it wasn’t meant for him, not for the man who was unfailingly kind to me, and maybe even he didn’t know why.

Guilt trumped my momentary relief, and I sputtered, “Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” Nash stood unsteadily. “We’re fine.” He stooped and offered a hand up.

Rather than take it, I stared.

I needed relief. If I couldn’t forget all that had happened today, maybe I could direct my thoughts to other things. Something good and fast and euphoric. Closeness and pleasure that would blank my mind for a little while.

Nash could give that to me. I could take it from him.

I clasped his hand and stood, letting the towel fall to pile around my feet. Then I thrust myself against him, burying my face in his throat where I began to kiss and bite.

---