Page 99 of Judas

Without realizing it, Kace has joined me. He guides the soaked locks of my hair out of my face. Giving himself a better look at me, though my head is tilted forward where I stare at the black tiled floor. Barely able to see the movement of the water as it gathers and starts to migrate to the drain which runs along the back side of the shower. Gathering all of my hair at the back of my neck, he wrings the water out, letting it rest along my spine.

What he’s doing feels abnormal after taking care of myself for the bulk of my life. Dad stopped tending to me, helping me wash my hair or making sure I had simple necessities such as shampoo and soap when I was little. I didn't think much about it then. That changed when I got older and started to do everything on my own—buying my own products to ensure I had clear skin, healthy hair, and was all around clean. He used to have this mentality where I owed him for simply being alive. That if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even exist. While I went through some shit, I never wanted to leave home, despite knowing there was something far better out in the world for me. Look at me now.

Kace… even with this personality, these behaviors and mood swings, he still knows what I need and when to give it. Caring for me when doing so wasn’t ever his responsibility. Standing in silence, Kace gathers the body wash sitting on the ledge to our left, placed in a wall recess by the previous tenant.

Kace doesn’t ask for direction, preferences, concerns, nothing—he just washes me. Starting at my neck, he makes his way down over the curves that have matured, skin that has stretchedwhich I hate, all the way down to feet and toes that have walked me through this world in emotional isolation.

As he comes to the end, he detaches the shower head and begins to rinse the suds off my frame. Some of them tickling on the way down, others fizzing and eventually swirling down the drain to never be seen again. The snap of the shampoo bottle comes next, then his hands are in my hair, working the foam into my scalp with a slight scrape of his nails. Naturally, my head tilts back, sighing under his touch.

“Mm, that’s what I was waiting to hear. For a moment, you had me thinking I was doing a terrible job.”

The tension shifts some, almost slightly lighter than before, which is a welcome change. Rather than responding to him immediately, I opt for a stillness that defies how comfortable I feel with him—he can stress out for a moment. He gives my hair a slight tug and pulls me off balance, a relaxed smile takes over my face.

“Don’t make me spank you, Snitch.”

“Wouldn’t make it through five spankings before you give up and start touching me elsewhere,” I snark, throwing sass back at him.

A firmer yank drags me back, my heart lurches for a beat when my stability is questioned. Gasping, instincts causing me to turn, Kace catches me with his left arm while the right hand twists in my soap sodden hair. His clutch turns and angles my head in a way where he’s mouth to cheek with me. Stubble, abrasive in its nature, scratching my water slicked face. He smiles against me, breath cool along the heated skin, this little moment embodying the man he was when we met.

Playful.

Sarcastic.

Captivated.

“As right as you are, being a brat will get you nowhere with me.”

Teasing him, I smirk. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Kace rumbles out a chuckle. The slight shake of his chest feels like security and asylum pressed to my shoulders.

“Well played.”

Returning to his task, he works the suds down to the ends of my hair last. You can tell he grew up with two other women in his life; most men don’t give a damn about the order of washing, let alone the correct method. Scalp first then ends last with shampoo, the opposite for cream rinse.

“When we get out, I’m going to give Babel a call and check on him and Sadie. Before that happens, this is the time to ask all of your questions. Surely you have plenty of them, and it’s time to be transparent.”

And like that, the tranquility evaporates.

The rebellious side of me wants to admonish him for interrupting time we’ve longed for but I get it. Babel has Sadie at the hospital, which we need to head that way sooner rather than later. Keeping my smartass retort to myself, I open my eyes and look up at him. His platinum hair is in utter disarray, even while soaking up water. He’s still so stupidly pretty it should be a crime. Peering back at me is that one blue and one grey pair of eyes—makes my throat tighten.

“The beginning, Kace. Start there and tell me everything.”

“Be more specific, babygirl, a lot has happened.” Tilting in, he pushes a kiss to the top of my head, guiding it back into position so he can rinse and repeat the motion with the conditioner from the alcove. His hands are less gentle than prior, betraying the discomfort in his figure.

“From the last night we were together, everything. Mostly, where the fuck have you been? Why did you wait until I was released to reappear? Why do you go by a new name? Just, fuckKace, everything. I think I deserve everything, not just the cliff notes.”

“Leave it to you to want some sort of encyclopedia-length series of events.”

“This isn’t the time to be sarcastic. You’ve been out of prison for seventeen years and not once did you try to reach out to me. Start fucking talking, Kace, or so help me God, I’ll stab you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His response is immediate. Missing his trademarked wise guy bullshit and tone.

“I’ll go into the specifics after I give you the cliff notes. Deal?”

“Fine, whatever. Spill it.” Annoyance laces my voice.

“I’m sure you can guess that Lucien got me alone and isolated me from the rest of the population. Fucked me up and left me to figure a way out or die. Though I was in and out of it, I could hear the riot happening above me. Then—“ His voice deepens for a swallow.

---