Page 46 of Backstroke

“I can walk!” I squeal as I hold onto his shoulders tightly.

“Yeah, and I can carry you. What’s your argument?” he smirks down at me, and if he wasn’t so handsome, I’d probably punch him.Ugh, men.

He sets me on the cool porcelain counter, then turns away to start the shower. I take a quick glance at the mirror and see a freshly fucked Fallon looking back at me. I definitely don’t look like the hot mess I assumed I would.

“Making sure you look good for me?” Remy’s sudden appearance startles me, making him chuckle.

“Is it hot yet?” I gesture to the shower, not wanting to admit that I cared about my appearance.

“Yes,” he murmurs in my ear, sending shivers through me. I jump from the counter and duck around him to be the first in. He follows suit, but I close my eyes and face away from him. This feels too intimate. I feel vulnerable. Fucking and showering together are two very different things.

I grab his shampoo, but he yanks it from my hands.

“My shower, my rules.” I roll my eyes, but he can’t see. He begins lathering my long hair, and I can’t help but feel like something changed between us. Somewhere along the way, the hate turned to something else. Everyone says there’s a fine line between love and hate, but I never gave that idiom a second thought. As much as I want to, I don’t hate Remington Frampton.So what does that mean?

My heart pounds in my chest, a wild drumbeat of fear and longing. I want to push him away, to build my walls higher, buthis touch is gentle, disarming. He’s been tearing my walls down all along, and I’ve only just got the message.

All of a sudden, I feel like I can’t breathe. This shower is huge, but I feel like I’m suffocating. I turn around, but the words die on my lips. Remy looks…relaxed? The usual scowl is gone and replaced with a look of contentment.

“What’s wrong?” He senses the mood change, but I don’t know how to answer him. Tears prick the sides of my eyes, because I haven’t seen someone look at me like that in so long. Even my own mother was too preoccupied once my father went to prison.

“I…” My voice falters, and I look away, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’m not used to this,” I finally admit. “To someone acting like they care.” I hate opening up to him, but the words spill from my mouth before I can stop them.

The warm water cascades over us, mingling with the scent of his shampoo—fresh, clean, and oddly comforting. His hands, slick with soap, cradle my face with a tenderness that makes my breath hitch. Remy’s expression softens.

“You deserve to be cared for, Fallon.” His declaration startles me. Surely he doesn’t mean himself. His eyes search mine, looking for something—permission perhaps, or understanding.

I step back, the cool air hitting my skin as I break contact. My heart aches at the loss, but I can’t let him see that. Not now.

Why does he have to say things like that?

Why does he have to make me feel things I’m not ready to feel?

I can’t afford to let him in. Not when he has the power to destroy me.

“Yeah, and you think you’re the one for the job,” I scoff. I lean my hair into the water, rinsing the soap so I can get out of here. I can’t let him get this close. The hate fucking is one thing, but Remy with emotions is something I can’t deal with.

Remy’s jaw tightens and he takes a deep breath. “Maybe I do,” he says quietly. “Maybe I want to be.”

I pause, the water cascading over me, washing away the soap, but not the confusion. “Why, Remy? Why me? You hate me. You’ve been bullying me for fuck’s sake!”

“I don’t hate you, little fox,” he admits. His eyes look pained, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

I stare at him, the words hanging between us like a fragile thread. The steam from the shower swirls around us, creating a cocoon of warmth and uncertainty. My mind races, trying to make sense of his words, his actions.

“Why do you call me that?” I murmur, needing to know, but equally scared to hear.

He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “Because you’re clever and fierce, just like a fox. You always have this spark, this fire in you that I can’t ignore.” My throat clogs with emotion. His words leave me breathless, and for a moment, I can’t find the right response. Instead, I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand on my cheek ground me.

I swallow hard, his words sinking in. “I never knew you saw me that way.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You never asked.” I don’t know how to respond, but I think he knows that. He brings his forehead down to rest on mine, his eyes never leaving mine. My mind swirls back to dinner and the question that’s been burning in my mind about Remy’s mother. I know there’s a story there, but will he tell me? Earlier outside, he wouldn’t open up to me but I need to get the question off my chest.

“Um…your mother,” I begin, his grip on me tightens but I continue. “What happened?” Remy closes his eyes, looking like I caused him psychical pain from the question.

His eyes snap open, but instead of anger, I see sadness.

“She died during childbirth. I never knew her.” He runs his fingers gently along my cheek.

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