Page 202 of Kentrell

Nothing flashy.

But everything…intentional.

“You can shower in here,” Kentrell said behind me, setting my bag down on a leather bench at the foot of the bed.

“Towels and everything in that linen cabinet.”

His voice stayed low… even.

“Water gets hot quick.”

I nodded… still too stunned to respond with words.

Still too caught up wondering what kind of man lived like this… in silence.

Without warning… he turned toward the door… started to step out.

But paused.

Like something in him wouldn’t let him leave without saying this:

“Take your time.”

And softer… almost beneath his breath…

“Ain’t nobody gon’ rush you here.”

Then…

He was gone.

Leaving the door cracked just enough for me to hear the fading sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

I stood there…

Still.

Letting the quiet wrap around me.

Like if I moved too fast… I might shatter it.

Eventually… I crossed to the bathroom.

And stepped straight into another world.

Marble stretched from floor to ceiling… soft veining running like ink through the stone.

Brushed gold fixtures glinted under recessed lights.

A rainfall shower took up one side—glass-paneled, with a bench tucked in the corner.

And across from it…

A freestanding tub… nestled beneath a frosted window that glowed faintly with winter light.

Candles lined the ledge above the tub.

Some half-burned.

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