Page 95 of The Devil We Know

She slaps at me until I move back more, and she sits up, pushing me backward so I’m standing, and she says, “You’re disgusting.”

I look down at myself, frowning at the fact I didn’t immediately head for the showers. I look down at her and frown again, shaking my head as I reach for her, yanking her to her feet.

I attempt to lead the way toward the bathroom, but she steps in front of me, grabbing my hand in hers and leading the way.

She stops abruptly in the middle of the room, and I practically run into the back of her, barely managing to stop up short. She whirls on me, her hands making quick work of my shirt, and soon, it’s lying on the floor in a heap. She kneels, and I’m looking at the top of her head as I ask, “What are you doing, sugar?”

“Taking care of you.”

I smile, the agony in my chest mixing with sheer emotion. I attempt to speak but choke instead. I clear my throat, looking up at the ceiling, praying she’ll see what I’m working so hard to deny.

I’m still not wearing shoes, so I easily step out of my pants and underwear, and then she’s pushing me toward the shower, which somehow is already running.

She pushes me under the spray and then turns, quickly removing her own clothes and leaving them piled on top of mine before turning and entering the shower, closing the door behind her.

I’m still standing there, frozen and numb. She says nothing. She just moves in close to me, the press of the front of her body against mine urging me to step backward until the hot water runs down my back and then along the back of my head.

I continue to stand there, willing my arms and legs to move but deeply paralyzed, every ounce of my energy being expended into pushing down that fierce agony still boiling inside me.

Jessica remains quiet, but her hands are firm as she meticulously cleans me up, first washing my hair and rinsing it clean. She then grabs the washcloth, soaping it up and scrubbing every inch of my body until finally, she’s satisfied.

She cleans herself much faster, and before I know it, she’s wringing the washcloth out and hanging it on the rack. She turns back to me, pulling me into her, one of her arms going aroundmy back and the other hand along the back of my neck. She hugs me to her, urging me to hold on.

A guttural sob falls from my lips, my arms come up and around her of their own volition, and she whispers to me soothingly.

And I stop fighting.

I let that wall inside me crumble, unleashing decades’ worth of pain in one fell swoop.

And Jessica, she stands there and holds me up.

40

Brotherly Sentiment

Declan

Antoinette: We need you

Declan: What?

Antoinette: It’s Dare.

Declan: What happened?

Antoinette: Nothing good.

Tony: Not a drill, man.

Declan: How bad?

Antoinette: BAD.

Declan: Is he alive?

Antoinette: Yes?

Tony: Maybe.

---