Page 9
I smile, “I am more than okay with that. Getting lost in a thunderstorm definitely isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. One out of ten would not recommend.”
They both chuckle, and then Jensen carries me out of the room and heads up the stairs.
“I can walk,” I say, looking up at him.
Jensen shrugs and looks down at me. “I don’t care. I thought I lost you today. You were so still when we first found you, and I almost didn’t see you.”
My hand reaches up and cups his cheek. “I’m really sorry I scared you. I’m okay though, just a little bruised, very tired, and very hungry.”
As if to make my point, my stomach growls angrily, and Jensen’s worried expression turns amused.
“Come on, let's get you showered, and then we can eat. Rafe’s going to worry cook, which means we’re going to end up with far more than just soup for dinner,” Jensen suggests.
“Oh, hell yes. Let’s do this,” I say. I wriggle out of his arms, and he reluctantly puts me down.
I really do feel a lot better than I did, and I think it’s purely down to Jensen keeping me warm.
His arms stay around me as he waits for me to steady myself.
“I’m good. I’m just really fucking sore. I’m not going to be able to stay upright for very long in the shower,” I say with a frown. “I’m exhausted.”
Jensen nods. “That’s understandable. You went out because you were emotionally in turmoil, which usually makes you tired by itself, then you got thrown from Tank, walked miles in a storm, fell at some point, and then got soaked while waiting for us to find you.”
“When you put it like that, it makes a lot of sense why I’m exhausted.”
“Go and jump in the shower. I’ll grab you something to wear and bring it in. Leave the door open in case something happens. I’m only going to be a couple of minutes.”
I nod.
Turns out that walking up the stairs was probably well out of my wheelhouse, because walking the few steps to the bathroom takes it out of me completely and hurts a lot.
Thank fuck he carried me up the stairs.
I make quick work of turning the shower on and getting in, deciding to wash my hair first since that’s going to require the most work. As soon as the water hits my scalp, though, I hiss in pain, immediately regretting the decision to start there, and somehow temporarily forgetting that I have a wound on my head.
“What is it? Are you okay?” Jensen asks immediately, appearing in the doorway with a pile of my favorite clothes.
I wince. “Yeah. My head's sore, the water hit it, and it hurt.”
“Maybe skip the shampoo for today and just try to get the mud and debris out. Or just shampoo the ends? You don’t want to make it worse,” he suggests, walking further into the room and placing my clothes and some clean ones of his own on the counter.
All of the guys keep spare clothes in here.
“Good idea,” I agree.
He strips his remaining clothes off and then hops into the shower with me. He moves toward me and then gently turns me so that my back is facing him as he positions me so the water is gently running over my head and my face isn’t in the water.
He gently starts to get all of the mud, leaves, and sticks out of my hair, being far more careful than I was being. He then shampoos the ends but leaves my scalp alone since there’s no way to do that without getting shampoo in the cut.
Once he’s done, he moves me gently again so that I’m facing him, kisses me softly, and then steps under the other shower head.
I will forever be grateful that we decided to put two shower heads in here when we remodeled the bathroom.
His eyes never leave me.
They usually don’t when we’re in the shower together, but this time his expression holds nothing but concern for me.
It doesn’t take long, and with Jensen’s help, I manage to get everything off me so I’m clean again, and I feel so much better. Once we’re dressed, I don’t have to say anything as he simply picks me up and carries me back down the stairs, gently placing me in my favorite seat in the living room, where the guys are all gathered.
