Page 33 of All Her Broken Pieces

We are several steps in, and she’s already looking more relaxed.

“Next, I apply SPF.”

I look at her confused. “You do that before going to bed? Isn’t that to protect you from the sun?”

“Yeah, but it’s something I’ve always done. My mom did it, and so do I. I dunno, it’s just part of my routine,” she murmurs, dropping her chin to her chest.

“Then we’ll do it if it’s part of your routine.” I grab the SPF and hand it to her. She squeezes some on her hand and reaches up to rub it into my skin. I close my eyes at her touch and think non-arousing thoughts to quell the boner tightening my pants.

After she finishes my face, she applies the SPF to hers. “I don’t use a lot, but I figure it can’t hurt if my mom’s been doing this all her life. And she looks great for her age.”

It hits me that she does this whole routine to fight off aging. I don’t know why that didn’t click for me until now, and I get why it’s so important to her. It’s not because of our age gap, but because she’s probably been told by society, the media, and even her own mother that it’s necessary for someone her age.

“You’re really fucking gorgeous, you know that?” I cup the back of her neck, pressing my forehead and nose to hers. She inhales a sharp breath but doesn’t say anything.

Breaking the tension, I continue rubbing my nose against hers before dragging it all over her cheeks, teasing her. “Sorry, I thought I saw some extra on there. Gotta be sure we rub it all in.” Smooshing my face against hers, I rub our faces together like a dog nosing around in someone’s crotch.

“Ethan, stop.” She laughs, and I continue rubbing my face against hers. “This is not how you’re supposed to apply the product.”

I pull back, still cupping her neck with both hands, and pull her mouth against mine. It’s a quick kiss, but I nip at her bottom lip as I pull back.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “Just friends.”

“What’s next?” I ask, bringing her attention back to me. The effect that kiss had on her makes my heart and my cock swell.

“Um, we do the hyaluronic acid serum next.”

“Acid?” I wince at the thought of putting acid on my face.

She chuckles. “It doesn’t burn. It helps moisturize.”

I lean down and press my lips to hers again. Her taste is sweet and subtle with a hint of mint from when she brushed her teeth earlier. When I pull back this time, she’s captured my lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it as we part.

“Not just friends,” I whisper against her ear before pecking her cheek.

I hand her the acid that somehow moisturizes, and she dabs it on her face and neck and hands it to me, so I follow her actions.

“I finish with a retinol cream and some eye cream.”

I reach for the creams and place them on the counter beside her. “Should I use them too?”

“You can if you want.” She shrugs, her tone suddenly less playful than it had been. Maybe I pushed too much with my “not just friends” comment. Sometimes the banter between us is fun and playful. Other times, it strikes a chord in her I didn’t know existed, and she’s throwing walls up around herself, pushing me out.

We finish the last two steps, and I follow her instructions precisely. I neatly return all the items to the basket in their proper order and pick her up off the counter before depositing her gently in the bed.

Leaning down, I kiss her forehead. “Good night, sweetheart. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

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The sound of retching wakes me from a restless sleep. I look at my phone and see it’s around two in the morning. I hurry back to her room, not knocking or waiting to be invited in. When I find her in the bathroom, she’s hunched over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach in a violent manner.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” I say softly as I run a hand up her back and gather the hair she was holding for herself, taking it out of her hand. She’d probably fight me on this or tell me to leave if she wasn’t so sick.

I snake one hand up to her forehead, brushing back the hair that sticks to her sweat-coated face. Her skin feels clammy but cool, no signs of a fever.

Moving my hand to her back, I rub small circles against her exposed skin while blowing out cool breaths against her.

“You should—” Bridget starts but is interrupted by another heaving tremor. I can hear liquid hitting the water, but looking over her shoulder, it appears to be mostly clear at this point. How long was she vomiting before I woke?

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