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Bennet and Jackson announce that they’re going to head downstairs to work on getting an office set up, and Lukas loads up the tray to take back down to the kitchen.
Following Micah and Luis into the bathroom, I walk around the magic waterfall shower that I cannot wait to use eventually.
As I look around at all the features of the fancy bathroom, I catch myself in the mirror and get my first real look at myself now that the bandages are off. My skin is beyond pale, mottled with mostly healed bruises. The cuts are shockingly red, as if all the blood in my face drained through those little slits. My eyes are shadowed and sunken, somehow looking like they belong on my face. My hair is matted to my scalp with blood and gore. The left side of my head has been shaved and the scar is puckered, dark and angry looking. The rest of my long hair is dirty and stringy, matted together in a long plait.
My arms are covered in cuts and bruises. My collarbone is protruding, and when I lift my tank top, I can see a faint outline of my ribs. My entire stomach is covered in dark bruises of varying stages of healing.
I stand there for a few minutes, assessing the stranger in the mirror. I look terrifying, honestly. I can understand why Dr. Franks was so worried about what kind of situation I came from. And I can understand why these guys took pity on me, helpless and pathetic.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I look away from my reflection, no longer excited by the sound of the water filling up the tub. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable undressing now that I’ve truly seen myself. I’m embarrassed that I’ve been flirting with all of these guys, letting my apparently uncontrollable libido trick me into thinking that any of these men would actually be flirting back.
Luis walks over to stand in front of me, pressing a knuckle under my chin to make me look up at him, his eyes searching. More tears fall and it makes me angry. I don’t want to be this weak, or this disgusting.
He pulls me against his chest, his warm skin soaking up my tears as he holds me. One big hand cradles my head, the other wrapping around me to support my weight as I let the grief take me. I fall apart in his embrace, my arms coming around to hug his waist.
It’s right then, in the middle of my tiny breakdown, that I realize I am hugging a shirtless Luis. I back up quickly, taking him in, wiping my arm across my nose. I glance down and notice he’s not wearing pants either, standing in front of me in nothing but his burgundy boxer briefs.
Kill me now.
“Hey,” he says, pulling my face up to his again. His voice drops. “I meant what I said in the hospital. Whoever hurt you, I am going to find them. And I’m going to kill them. Do you hear me?”
I nod, blank faced. Why is that hot?
He starts to lift my tank top up slowly, his eyes on mine to make sure it’s okay. I’m not sure I’m ready after what I just saw, but I trust him, so I raise my hands above my head.
He pulls the shirt over my head. The fabric of my white bra, and my embarrassingly hard nipples, lightly graze his chest. I pretend not to notice, avoiding eye contact as another tear falls.
“Tell me why the tears started, you seemed so happy a minute ago.”
Not trusting myself to speak without crying even more, I vaguely gesture to my whole appearance. My left hand ghosts over the giant bald spot on the side of my head. I turn my head to stare off into the distance, avoiding his eyes. He’s not having it though, palming my cheek and staring me down.
“None of this is permanent, and none of this takes away from how beautiful you are.”
My face crinkles and I close my eyes. I don’t want pity compliments.
He shakes his head and murmurs, “Well, I guess we’re just going to have to prove it to you. But for now, trust us to take care of you, yeah?”
I nod into his palm as he leans forward to kiss my forehead. Lowering himself to kneel in front of me, he removes my shoes and socks, untying the drawstring on my pants and slipping them off my body. It reminds me of the way he dressed me in the hospital. My body heats with warring feelings. Embarrassment, doubt, arousal – embarrassment over my arousal.
Once I’m down to my bra and panties, Luis scoops me up and carries me to the huge tub. He carefully descends the few steps into the tub, where Micah is waiting with a plastic chair. Micah is also stripped down to his underwear. Good Lord the muscles.
Luis lowers me into the chair, and I feel the warm water rising around my legs as the tub fills. Micah looks down at my body and his eyes darken for a moment, some unnamed tension or possibly anger there as he surveys my mottled skin. I try not to take it personally. But as the water reaches the seat his gaze shifts, distracted by something momentarily before he snaps his eyes back up. He looks at Luis with a slightly pained look. Luis nods sympathetically.
I look down at my legs, concerned that there is some terrible bruise or mark on my legs that I haven’t seen yet, but the bruises on my thighs are almost healed. They’re far better off than my abdomen and face, that’s for sure. It takes me a moment to realize that the water is soaking into my white briefs, rendering them almost see-through.
I shift my eyes back up and try to sneak a peek at both guy’s faces through my lashes, and they are both glaring at me slightly fearfully.
“We probably should have realized…” Luis chuckles uncomfortably. Micah coughs.
It might be funny if it weren’t such a tense situation.
The water reaches my navel and Micah reaches over to shut off the faucet.
“We are going to lean this chair back so that your hair can reach the water. Micah will hold the chair steady while I wash your hair. We can’t scrub or shampoo directly over the stitches yet, but we can rinse it well and shampoo the ends of your hair,” Luis explains.
“Okay.”
Micah steps up to the chair. “You might feel a little unsteady, but I’ve got you,” he says, reaching his arms around my body. He holds the chair at my lower back and tips it until my head is almost touching the warm water.
