Page 47 of Diesel
I nodded as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. She followed me out of the bathroom and made sure I made it to my bed. I needed space to think.
I tossed and turned for what felt like forever. What did she mean that he needed time to come back? The look in his eyes was definitely not the one I was used to. It was even worse than the hard mask he wore around me. He almost looked haunted. Something inside me pulled and before I knew it, I was up and walking down the hall to his room.
The whole place was quiet and it set me even more on edge. I knocked lightly on his door and waited. Maybe he wasn’t even done yet. Maybe he was still down in the basement. But from what I had seen, I imagined there wasn’t much fight left in the guy on the table. The whole thing would be something I would never forget. And I wasn’t sure if it was something I could ever get used to.
I knocked again and still received silence. Something in me needed to talk to him. To make sure he was okay. But who could really be okay after something like that?
My brain screamed at me just to go back to my room, but instead, I found myself opening the door. I stepped into his room with light feet. His smell hit me right away, strong and enveloping. Light spilled out of the bathroom, like a beacon calling me in. I shuffled across the carpet, not sure if I was prepared for what I was going to see.
He was standing there, his back to me. His posture hunched, and for a split second, I wondered if it was even him. I had never seen him like that. His hands curled and limp at his sides. His breathing was rigid and heavy. I could still smell the burnt flesh and blood all around him. His feet were bare and I looked around for his boots, but they seemed to already be gone. His light jeans were splattered in red. His hands were raw and the skin was broken in various places. His black shirt was wet and darker in places.
There was so much blood all over him. Some his, but most of it I knew wasn’t. Something clicked inside of me and I instinctively started moving. Maybe I had watched too many crime shows in my life, but I felt like I knew what needed to be done.
“Come on,” I said in a soft tone.
He didn’t move. I guided him over to the shower, thankful that he moved willingly in his lost place. His dark place. I got him inside and felt a little nervous about what I had to do next. But it needed to be done and there was no time for modesty. I looked under the sink and found a roll of plastic garbage bags. I didn’t let myself think of why there was an entire roll there when there wasn’t even a trashcan big enough to fit them anywhere around. I grabbed two, thinking double lining them was for the best. I stripped his shirt off first, his body moving as needed, but he still wasn’t with me. I tossed it into the bags. Then his pants and his black boxer-briefs. He was naked and I tried my best to not get all flustered about it. I knotted the top of the bag and set it aside.
He still hadn’t moved. I turned on the shower head, making sure the water wasn’t too hot, and then closed the curtain. I scooped up the bag and headed for the door.
What was I supposed to do with it now? I needed to go find someone and hand it off. After my talk with Jessica, there was no doubt in my mind that everyone there knew what was going on. And more than likely, knew how to deal with it. I opened the door and almost ran into Bocca. He stood there like he was about to come in the room. He looked shocked as he looked down at me. Without a word, I held out the bag to him. His face relaxed a bit as he took the bag and nodded to me. I had learned by now that so much could be said with nods and chin lifts around this place.
His gaze flicked over my shoulder in the direction of the bathroom, then back to me. I sighed and took the large bottle of bleach he was carrying. He cocked his head at me like he couldn’t believe what I was willing to do. Like he wasn’t sure if he was really seeing what he was seeing. Yes, like little, fragile me was about to clean a crime scene without even blinking. Okay, there might have been a few blinks, but at that point, I was doing my best to turn my mind off. It was like I was moving on auto-pilot, following instincts I didn’t even know I had.
“I got it,” I simply said. I wasn’t sure if I did, but I figured I needed to scrub everything down. Everything. I was starting to convince myself that I did have it.
“Should you be… with that…?” He pointed to my belly. Yeah, okay, maybe bleach wasn’t the best thing to breathe in while pregnant. But for some crazy, unknown reason, I just had to do it myself.
“I got it,” I repeated in a stern voice, surprising both of us.
I appreciated his concern but I needed to handle it. I was sure breathing in bleach for a small amount of time would be fine. I wasn’t going to make it a habit. Diesel wasn’t my man, but I needed to be there for him and take care of him. I couldn’t explain it. It was like something was calling me out and I had no choice but to obey.
I closed the door and headed back to the bathroom. I cracked open the curtain and looked in. He still hadn’t moved. The water that poured off his body left a slight pink tint on the shower floor.
Good. Looks like most of the blood washed off.
But he still needed a good scrub down. It looked like it was going to have to be me. I stepped into the stall, still fully clothed. My leggings were soaked within seconds. I took the bar of soap and washcloth. I started scrubbing his shoulders, his hard muscles twitching under my touch. His body swayed with my movements but his head remained down. I turned him around and scrubbed his front, doing my best to avoid the area between his legs. Then I grabbed his shampoo and scrubbed his hair.
His eyes were on me, but his gaze was looking through me. I didn’t like seeing that look in his eyes. I couldn’t explain it, but it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Void and vacant. He was checked out and I wasn’t sure how to bring him back.
I reached over him to remove the showerhead. My belly bumped into him and I paused. Shaking off the odd spark that shot through me, I grabbed the showerhead and started rinsing his hair and body. When I put it back, the same thing happened. Only this time, I swear I thought I saw his jaw tick.
His hands went to my belly, startling me, as I lowered myself down from my toes. I held back the yelp that threatened to escape me. His gaze was now hard set on my stomach, but I couldn’t tell if he was back or not. We stood there until the water started to cool, his hands on either side of my bump, holding it like it might break. He blinked a few times as if he was trying to get his eyes to focus. Then his hands slid away and I knew that was the end of that hope. I sighed and reached around him to turn the water off.
I toweled him off the best I could before guiding him over to the bed. He flopped down on the edge of the mattress with ease when I pushed him and stared at the floor. The towel started to slip off, but luckily it was still covering his lap. I went to his dresser and pulled out a clean shirt and underwear. I set them on the bed beside him, hoping he would get the hint.
“Okay,” I said to the quiet room after he didn’t make any kind of move. “You sit there, then. I will be back.”
In the bathroom, I opened the bleach. The smell burned my nose and made my eyes water. I shook my head and scrunched up my face.Maybe this isn’t the best idea.But I wasn’t going to turn back. I took off my wet shirt and tied it around my nose and mouth the best I could. I knew it was probably useless, but I did it anyway. I made quick work of soaking down the shower, floor, and sink. Not finding anything to actually scrub with, I took off my leggings and started wiping everything down with them. Then I rinsed out the sink, dumping half of what was left of the bleach down the drain. I hopped in the shower. I stripped, leaving the rest of my clothes in a heap on the stall floor. They were ruined now, anyway. I washed the walls off, then cleaned myself. I could smell his soap on me even through the strong chemical aroma.
I so didn’t think this through.I realized as I turned off the water and reached for the towel that was no longer there. I did my best to wring out my hair and shake some of the water off. I stepped out, trying not to slip on the slick tile floor. Then I grabbed the bleach and dumped the rest down the shower drain, hoping that I had gotten everything. I tiptoed over to the bed, leaving the light and fan on in the bathroom. I sighed, noticing that Diesel was in the same position that I’d left him in, as I reached for the shirt I had set out for him. I slipped it on feeling a little too exposed standing there naked. Then knelt down to at least get his underwear on him. It was useless, I couldn’t get them any further than his parted knees. Sitting back on my heels, I blew out a frustrated breath and tugged them back off. I pulled back the covers then lightly pushed him down into the open spot.
It was done. He was cleaned up. The bathroom was taken care of. Now, I just had to walk across the clubhouse in a shirt and nothing else. I was just glad the thing hung like a dress on me. My goods were covered, even if I could feel the cool air blowing over them every time I moved.
I pulled the sheets over him then reached down to brush the hair out of his face. He still wasn’t there. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand. Turning back I didn’t see anything different in his expression, but he didn’t let me go. I nodded, not sure why, it wasn’t like he would see it. Then I slid into the bed, pressing my back into his front. His arm came around and his hand rested on my bump. I smiled and let out a shaky breath. Silent tears ran down my face long after I felt his breath even out against my neck.
