Page 8 of Beacon

“This is nice. Chloe’s grandpa did a great job setting it all up.”

“Yeah. Got power and water. I had to do some fix-ups when I first got here, but all the systems are good.” He clears his throat and turns toward the short hallway. “You can stay in Chloe’s room tonight.”

I follow him as he walks, nearly running into his back when he stops abruptly. I bring my hand up automatically to stabilize myself against his shoulder blades.

He moves out of my reach immediately and gestures into an open doorway. “Bathroom here.”

I duck my head in and flip on the light. There’s a toilet, a sink, and a small, no-frills shower. “The toilet and shower still work?”

“Yeah. Just pump the water in first. Got to heat up the water if you want the shower hot. Move out and I’ll show you.”

I try not to let it hurt my feelings that he’s so reluctant to even brush up against me. What happened to him is not about me. It’s about everything. I’m simply the person who’s here right now. Without a visible reaction, I step out of the bathroom so Mack can get in.

He pumps a lever next to a box on the wall several times, clearly filling a tank up with water. Then he flips a switch and a red light comes on. “This will heat the water up for the shower. It won’t last more than a few minutes, so make sure you do the essentials first thing.”

“Okay. I will. Thanks.” When he reaches up toward the switch and gives me a questioning look, I know what he’s asking. “You can leave that on. I’ll take a shower right away.”

He nods, and I step back into the hall to let him out, following as he pushes through the partly closed doorway on the right. “This is Chloe’s room. Looks decent.”

It is. It’s got a twin-size bed with a pretty pink quilt, a dresser, and another bookshelf. I step over and idly open the top drawer of the dresser. It’s filled with clothes.

“Her clothes will be too small for me,” I say. Chloe is a pretty, curvy blonde and at least five inches shorter than me. “Do you have anything I can borrow to change into after I shower? I’d like to rinse out these clothes.”

Mack turns without speaking and walks out of the room. Since he didn’t say no, I assume he’s gone to get me something of his to put on.

With a sigh, I slump onto the bed, dropping my backpack on the floor and toeing off my hiking boots.

He returns in just a minute and hands me a T-shirt and pair of gym shorts with a drawstring so I can tighten them around my waist. I recognize them immediately. I used to put them on all the time after we had sex.

My hand shakes slightly as I take the clothes from him, but I don’t think he’ll notice.

“There’s a washer you can use for your clothes. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says. “Don’t take too long in the shower or you’ll freeze your ass off when the hot water runs out.”

I don’t bother replying because he’s already out the door and down the hall.

With a sigh, I make myself summon the energy to stand up again.

I heed Mack’s advice, rinsing off quickly before shutting off the water so I can soap up and lather my hair with the shampoo from the bottle on the built-in shelf. Then I turnthe water back on and rinse off again. Since there’s still hot water coming out, I take a minute to shave my underarms. I haven’t had a chance to do that in a long time.

The razor is almost certainly what Mack’s been using on his head, but I don’t worry too much about that. I’ve had Mack’s sweat all over every inch of my body. I’ve had his tongue in my mouth and my pussy, his cock in my mouth and my pussy, his semen all over my face and my belly and my thighs and my ass.

Sharing a razor is the least of my concerns.

I finish up right as the water starts getting colder, so I turn it off and dry myself with the towel hanging neatly on the bar.

It’s probably the towel Mack has been using too. I put it to my nose, but I can’t smell him on it.

I can smell him on the clothes, although they’re obviously clean. The faint, familiar scent triggers a clench of entitlement down deep at my core, but I try to ignore it. The T-shirt is his smallest one. It fits him like a glove but is baggy on me. The shorts come almost to my knees, but with the drawstring, it’s no problem to make them work.

I comb out my hair with a hairbrush that obviously used to be Chloe’s. It’s got a few strands of pale blond hair still caught in the bristles, and for some reason it makes me sad. My eyes burn.

She lived here with her grandfather for years, but he’s dead now. She’s happy. She found a man she obviously loves and is very pregnant with their first baby. They havea thriving, fairly secure community, and raising a family is what she wants.

I’m just in a weird emotional mood, so I shake it off.

I braid my hair since it’s sopping wet and then collect my dirty clothes from the bathroom floor and my pack for the washer.

I can’t remember the last time I washed my clothes with anything except my own hands.

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