Page 43 of Operator
Gathering her close, I let her cry until the sun has set and shadows grow long in the room. At some point, the baby wakes and Gwen moves to tend to her like a zombie. While she feeds and changes Violet, I reach out to the detective who took the report about the break-in. He promises to stop by the next day but warns there won’t be much he can do. Social media is a bit of a grey area. I send him an email containing the video for him to watch anyway so he can add it to our file.
Other than that, there isn’t anything much else to do from a legal perspective.
Mom is too busy taking care of Dad these days to use social media. I’ll just have to snag her phone and uninstall the app. It’ll take her so long to figure out how to re-download it, and the whole thing will have blown over. Most everyone in town has stopped bringing up Ian’s death to her, but I’ll keep an eye on her nonetheless.
“Did you speak to the detective?” Gwen asks, reappearing in the doorway.
“He’s coming by to talk to us tomorrow. I sent him a copy of the video.”
She nods, her expression blank. I almost wish she’d start crying again.
My protective drive kicks in and overrides my concerns about the detective, and even about Ian. She may be going into shock. I steer her to the kitchen and help her onto a stool at the bar. Gwen sits woodenly, her eyes unfocused and her shoulders slumped. Even her hair, normally as vibrant as flames, seems dull in the fluorescent lighting.
I pour her a glass of sweet tea and make a quick turkey sandwich, which she eats woodenly, barely moving. Getting the food and sugar in her system should help. After I put away the dishes, I help her to the shower. She doesn’t speak as I start the water, adjust the temperature and pause.
“Gwen, angel, need you to get in the shower.”
“I’m too tired,” she whispers.
“I know, baby. You can sleep after this.” I know she hears me because she glances at the shower, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. I’m going to rip the person terrorizing her apart limb from fucking limb with my bare hands. “Do you need me to help you?”
There’s a long pause. “Can’t I just go to sleep?”
“You’re a mess from cleaning. The baby must have thrown up on you. You’d feel better if you took a shower. Just a quick one. Then you can sleep as long as you want. I’ll take care of Violet for you tonight.”
“Okay.” She starts to shed her clothes, but her shirt becomes tangled. I reach up to help her, a little stunned to see so much of her bare skin on display unexpectedly.Shit.
I’d planned on escaping as soon as I got the shower ready, but Gwen is so out of it she doesn’t even seem to notice I’m still in the room with her. With both of us working at it, we manage to get her shirt off and she quickly sheds her nursing tank top and steps out of her black leggings.
Fuck me. My mouth goes dry.
I’d already seen as much of her as a person could when she gave birth and she’s practically topless round the clock, but this is different. For a moment, it knocks the memory of Ian’s video and the sick fuck who must have posted it right out of my mind. By the time my brain gets back to normal function, she’s already stepping under the spray and thank God for that.
“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” I tell her through the lump in my throat.
“Will you stay? Please? I don’t want to be alone right now.” The anguish in her voice is palpable.
I give brief consideration to pretending I didn’t hear her and leaving anyway, but I don’t want to leave her alone as much as I probably should. “Yeah, of course. Keep talking to me, so I know you’re okay.”
“What do you want me to say?” I sit on the toilet next to the shower and my head hangs in my hands as I hear water splatter. The scent of gardenia fills my nose as she begins to lather up. I try not to think about her rubbing soap all over her naked body.
I scrub my hands over my face and press my fingers in my eyes, but it does nothing to dispel the image. “Shit, I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
Her wooden voice pierces the erotic images racing through my thoughts. “I’m applying to jobs,” she says.
Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I perk up. “You are? Where? You aren’t going to work at the diner anymore?”
The more I keep her talking, the steadier she sounds. That’s my girl. “Your mom came by, and we talked about it. She practically fired me and said I should start moving on with my life. Can you believe that?”
“It’s not as farfetched as you may think. She loves telling people what to do.” Like ordering me to stay here and take over when Dad isn’t well enough to handle the day-to-day operations. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was convincing Gwen to leave because I was here to stay for the foreseeable future. Interfering-ass woman.
“That doesn’t sound like something Bunny would do.” Her indignant tone allows my muscles to relax somewhat. The sign of sass means she’s coming back to herself. That’s a good sign.
I can see her silhouette through the curtain. I’ve been looking everywhere but there, but I have no fucking willpower anymore. The outline of her body has me practically drooling. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” I have to keep her talking so I don’t do something stupid like rip the shower curtain off the rod and beg her to let me have a taste of her.
“Maybe she’s right. Me stagnating isn’t something Ian would have wanted. He was always supportive of my career. After he retired from the military, we planned on moving wherever the best paying job in my specialty was. He’d want me to get moving with my life.”
“He’d want you to be happy.” That much I know for certain. Because it’s what I’d want and Ian and I may not have talked in a long time, but I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that he’d want what’s best for her. And moving on—with or without me—is what’s best for her. And for Violet.
