Page 58 of All Her Broken Pieces

My phone lights up the dimly lit room, and I roll over to grab it with my hand that’s not covered in lube. Scrolling through all Becka’s messages, it’s clear that I’m going to have to reach out to her soon.

Becka

I can see you’ve read these so I assume you’re alive.

Robert and I are getting home in a few hours. We need to talk.

I check the timestamp on her last message. Shit, that was several hours ago.

Why aren’t you responding to me?

Oh shit, did something happen?

You ok?

ANSWER ME!

I swear if you’re ghosting me again…

I need to know you’re ok.

Also…

Something happened while on our trip, and I need to talk to you about it.

I hear him enter the room before I see him, his presence looming over me as he stands at the edge of the bed. Using the cloth, he carefully wipes my hand as I continue reading one-handed.

“I want to return the favor, but I think you need some rest.”

I stop scrolling and look up at him through bleary eyes. “I do, but I think something is going on with Becka and Robert,” I say, tilting the phone to him.

After placing the cloth on the nightstand, he hands me two ibuprofen and a glass of water as he bends to look at my phone. The exchange feels oddly domestic, as though we’ve gone through this routine hundreds of times, and it hits me that I’ve never felt this comfortable with another person.

“That’s a lot of messages. Are you going to answer her?”

“Tomorrow,” I reply through a yawn.

“What do you think happened?”

“There’s no telling with Becka.” I chuckle. “She has the most hilarious stories and tells them in the most dramatic way. It’s probably something like that.” I roll over and plug my phone in. Ethan moves around the room, slipping into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush and the faucet run as he washes his hands and brushes his teeth.

“Mind if I use some of your products on my face?” he asks, popping his head out of the bathroom.

The light shines in my eyes as I cover it and squint up at him. Is he fucking with me, or is he serious? I know we went through my skincare routine a few nights ago, but I haven’t seen him do all that again. And he hasn’t asked me. “What?”

“I liked the way my skin felt after we went through your nighttime routine. And I wanted to make sure you were cool with me using some of your products.”

“Shit. I totally forgot to do all that tonight.” What is happening to me? I feel like every time I’m near this man, he throws me off-balance. I move to sit up too quickly and wince as pain lances my abdomen. “Fuck.”

He rushes to my side, “Shit, you okay?”

Tears well in my eyes as I squeeze them shut, determined not to show any more weakness in front of this man. “Fine,” I grit out.

“Not buying that, but let’s take it easy, okay? We can skip the skin care tonight. You just focus on resting. You’ve been pretty active today, twisting more than normal, and your muscles need to rest.”

“Fuck it, it’s not like I put on any makeup today. I guess it’s okay to go without washing my face for one night. I just need this ibuprofen to kick in,” I whine as I lie back against my pillow.

“I’ll help you with it in the morning,” he promises as he shuts off the bathroom light and crawls into bed beside me, pulling me against him.

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