Page 151 of Burn Like An Angel

“We all want to help, guava girl. I hate seeing you like this.”

“It’ll pass. Just leave me alone.”

I hate crushing his hopefulness, but when the depressive episodes that keep me immobilised hit, it’s easier to wait themout. Their lingering around and attempts to force food down me are wasted. I want to rot alone.

“Come on, babe.” He steps into the shaded room, stick in hand. “Don’t you remember the agreement we made before?”

“No.”

“I know you do. Don’t give me that crap.” Raine stops next to the bed. “We agreed you’d give me a signal on the bad days. I need to know what I can do to help.”

God, that feels like ages ago. Raine dragged me out of the eternal misery I was drowning in when my uncle left me in the medical wing in Harrowdean. He refused to let me wallow.

“We never did agree on a code word.” I sigh tiredly.

“How about papaya?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Ouch! Shot down. You’re bad for my ego, Rip. Papaya it is.”

The brief smile that touches my lips feels like seeing sunlight after a long, dreary winter. Snagging his shirt sleeve, I stroke my thumb across his forearm, the small touch offering me an anchor point.

“Raine?” I murmur.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Papaya.”

Straightening, he pulls his arm away. “I’m on it.”

Tapping his way from the room, Raine disappears into the corridor. I can hear voices conversing. The other two left me in peace after we returned from our latest interrogation with the happy twins—what we’ve started calling Agents Barlow and Jonas.

At this point, we’re barely scratched the surface of gory information. They’re methodically picking through every last detail, documenting our inside knowledge for the investigation. We’re being fucking dissected.

When Raine returns, I can hear footsteps leaving the apartment. We’ve been granted a little more freedom now, though security still follows us everywhere. He returns to the bed to tug my covers off.

“Arms around my neck, babe.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to take care of you while Xander and Lennox gather some stuff. Then we’ll ride this out together, alright?”

Reassurance trickles through me. “Okay.”

I wind my arms around his neck. Raine lifts me from the bed, holding me curled up against his chest. He taps a path to the bathroom, only stubbing his toe once while carrying me.

Thrusting the stick out, he maps each bathroom fixture until he locates the tub. It echoes with a hollow thunk. Raine carefully deposits me on the edge, tossing the stick aside so he can feel for the taps.

“You’re going to have to read the bottles for me.” He laughs to himself. “Unless you fancy a shampoo bath.”

While he adjusts the flowing water, I read the various products lined up on the bath’s edge. I wonder which member of the Anaconda team purchased marshmallow-scented bubble bath.

“Who do you think went shopping for us?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. These scents seem very specifically chosen.”

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