Page 52 of Kissing Chaos
“So, you really called out of work just to stay home with me all day?” I ask, not really believing him when he admits to why he stayed home today.
“I was worried about you. So is McKenna, by the way.”
“You called her?”
“Text. Last night.”
I groan and sink deeper into the mountain of blankets.
“Was I not supposed to? I mean, I didn’t know if it was a regular habit that I just didn’t know about or if something bad had happened that you were trying to drown out or what. She seemed like the best bet without roping in your brother. He’s civil now, but I figured neither of us wanted him hovering.”
He reaches under the bottom of the blankets and gently pulls my legs into his lap, massaging my calves with firm, surestrokes. I bite back a moan as he hits a knot and have to force myself from slipping into a daydream of him massaging other parts of me.
Like my shoulders. Those always have the worst knots. Especially the right one.
I feel a squeeze harder than the ones before it and peep over the blankets at Noah, who is staring intently at me. Heat creeps up my neck as I realize my mind slipped away from the conversation.
“I, um, didn’t hear what you said,” I say, the words stumbling out.
Noah continues his thorough massage and says, “I just asked if you wanted to get a shower before McKenna gets here. If so, you have about forty-five minutes.”
“Honestly, taking a shower seems like a lot of work.”
He looks at me quizzically. “How so?”
“What steps go into taking a shower for you?”
“Get in. Wash hair and body. Get out.”
I nod along with his answers, even though just listening to them make me tired. “You have a neurotypical brain. You do things the ‘normal’ way,” I say while using my fingers to make air quotes. “I have to get the water temperature hot enough, but not too hot, undress in what is probably a cold room with a colder floor, get in the water, wet my hair, which is super thick and long, put in and rinse out shampoo, put in conditioner and leave it for at least a few minutes, wash my body, wash my face, shave, depending on when I did last, rinse my hair while running a brush through it, because otherwise I won’t brush it at all, and then turn the water off.
“Then I have to convince myself to get out of the hot shower and step back onto the cold floor to dry off and get dressed. But I can’t just get dressed. I have to make sure that every part of me is dry first, because socks or pants on slightlydamp skin will drive me up the wall in discomfort. And then my hair has to be brushed again and either braided or dried…” I trail off, realizing how much like a tangent this must sound to him, but I am already exhausted just thinking about it.
Noah lifts my legs and slides closer, pulling blankets away until he has me wrapped in his strong arms. “How about this,” he starts, his voice rumbling along the shell of my ear. “What if you let me get the water running, and I will lay towels down on the floor and plug in a space heater in there? Then, when you’re done, I’ll brush and dry your hair for you.”
I stare in awe at the man next to me. “How does someone like you have feelings for someone like me?”
Ignoring my question, he asks, “Would that make a shower more manageable?”
I nod, unable to speak through the emotion clogging my throat. This man. What I would do to be worthy of him.
22
Noah
After leaving a kiss on Jett’s temple, I do as promised.
Getting the water running and laying out towels is nothing. Neither is making sure my sister’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash are all set out for her, although I wouldn’t mind her smelling like my sandalwood body wash.
Finding the space heater takes a little more work. I finally locate it in the top of the hall closet and quickly work to plug it in before double-checking the water temperature. Then I slip back out to the living area where Jett has once again sunk into a blanket cocoon with only the top of her head peeking out. I softly massage what I can reach before telling her the shower is ready. Once she disappears down the hall and I hear the door latch, I head into the kitchen to throw together a small lunch. I only got toast into Jett’s stomach earlier. She needs to eat.
By the time the water shuts off, a tray of fruit, BLTs, a water for me and a Dr. Pepper for Jett sit on the coffee table by the love seat. As Jett slips back into the room, I motion toward the cushions on the floor for her where it’ll be easier for me to brush her hair, but she walks straight to me, the black sweats I’d left in the bathroom for her swallowing her petite frame. Without thought, I open my arms and envelop her.
“You said don’t ask. Just do.”
“I did.”
“Thank you.”
