But now…Now I couldn’t avoid it.
The woman staring back wasn’t someone I recognized.
Her eyes were dull. Empty.
Her face was thinner, sharper, like all the softness had been scraped away, leaving nothing but harsh edges and shadows.
I took a step closer.
I saw the hollows under my eyes.
The cracked lips.
The faint bruises still lingering across my collarbone like fingerprints pressed too hard.
I looked every inch as broken as I felt.
Even though I felt filthy inside—tainted by things I had no control over—I couldn’t bear to see myself reflect that filth.
Not tonight. Not after what just happened with Reich.
I turned away quickly, my fingers trembling as I reached for the small music player he had left on the windowsill.
I scrolled until I found something familiar.
A soft and haunting song, drifted through the speakers, wrapping around me like smoke.
I let it happen.
Let it soothe the jagged edges of my mind until the worst of the shaking stopped.
And then, I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower.
The rainfall head sprayed warm water over me, each drop hitting my skin like a silent prayer, cleansing me, like a gentle hand smoothing over my scars, wiping them clean.
I closed my eyes.
I could almost feel him.
Reich.
His hands.
The way they’d touched me—hesitant at first, then reverent.
Like I was something worth holding.
Something worth needing.
I pressed my palms flat against the cold tile wall, my breath catching as I imagined his fingers in my hair, his lips against the nape of my neck, his body bracing me there, keeping me upright when I had no strength left.
God, I could almost smell him.
That intoxicating mix of smoke and cedar, sharp and warm.
The scent that made my knees weak, that made me feel… alive.
I dragged my hands through my hair, pretending they were his.