Page 144 of Coerced

“Mira.”

“I may wish otherwise, but there is no escaping the fact that I’m built more like a football player than a cheerleader.”

She angled us out of the bathroom, her arm across my lower back, and I let her tow me along for two reasons: If I struggled against her hold, I could hurt her by accident, and I really was dizzy enough to need the help.

“Mira.”

“What?” She stopped in the living room near the couch.

“You are fierce and brave and strong,” I said with as much dignity as I could while wearing a towel and leaning on her. “But that’s notallyou are. You’re also kind, smart and beautiful.Utterlybeautiful, Mira.”

She made a gurgling noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was laughter, embarrassment, or anger.

“Why did you have to go and say something like that?” she demanded.

Did I embarrass her? She needs embarrassing, then.

“Wait here,” she demanded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

“No. Since you’re still mostly naked, we might as well finish what we started.”

And John chosethat momentto stroll out of the bedroom.

He was one of the quietest, most reserved people I’d ever met. Taller than most and broad with muscle, John could be very intimidating with his black eyes that silently watched everything and his uninflected voice that left you wondering what he really thought. I’d never heard the kid so much as raise his voice.

Which made it all the more startling when he looked from Mira’s departing back to my wet self and began to laugh. I knew how the conversation could have been construed and, while itwasfunny, I didn’t want John to get the wrong idea about Mira.

“Listen, John, nothing happened.” I made sure the knot in the towel was solid.

“You’re both adults,” John said between deep chuckles. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Huh. I suddenly understand Kerry’s temper in the bra aisle.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“What it looks like is,” he sobered up and resumed his usual stoic mask, “you took a bath and Mira freed you from the duct tape.”

He peered at the gouges taken out of my arm and chest.

“I don’t think you’re going to need stitches,” he said.

“Me, either.” Mira breezed back into the living room. She had a shopping bag in one hand and a metal cuirass followed her. “But I want to keep them covered for a few more days. John, could you fetch him a pair of boxers and pajama pants? When I’m finished, maybe you could help him get dressed.”

“Sure thing, Mira.” He glanced up at me, smirked the tiniest bit, and went back toward the bedroom.

She stuffed me in the armor, suctioned it in place, and asked how it felt.

“Mira, your hands are magic.”

And there was John again, a wad of clothing in hand. His timing was impeccable. She looked puzzled when he snorted.

“Ignore him.” I shot him a glare. “It’s nothing.”

In a whirlwind of motion, she helped me peel off the cuirass, swabbed me down with something that burned, and wrapped gauze strips loosely around my chest and upper arm.

“That should do it.” She gathered up her supplies. “I’ll disappear so John can help you dress.”

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