Page 65 of The Deception You Weave
Instead, I nod at him and slip into the room.
He can say whatever he wants after the event, but something tells me that if I were to have said something to him back then, nothing would have changed.
He wouldn't have taken the chance on me telling the truth.
My stomach knots with that knowledge.
How he's behaving right now is because of the shock. Shock and pity for what I endured.
With a sigh, I reach into his shower and turn it on before stripping the clothes from my body.
The water is so hot it burns my skin and makes me wince when I first stand under it, but I don't make a move to turn it down.
I need it, anything to take the focus away from the pain in my chest from the loss.
Was I ready to be a mom? Absolutely not. I was living my dream life. I didn't want anything to change, but there was little I could do about it because I was not getting rid of my baby. Even if it was the spawn of the devil.
I knew I'd figure out a way, and hopefully, when I was brave enough to confess to my parents, they would have supported me and helped me do the right thing.
I just never got that far.
Looking down, I find my limited options of Kane's shower gel and one single bottle of shampoo.
"Okay then."
Without much choice, I reach out and grab the bottle.
The second I flip the lid, his scent engulfs me, and I immediately regret it. He's about to cover every inch of my skin and he's not even touching me.
I make the most of my limited resources and turn the shower off once I'm done. With everything that's happened since I woke up here, I'd forgotten about the injury to my head until I shoved my fingers into my hair to wash it. I just about manage to hold in my cry of pain as my eyes fill with water.
Victor fucking Harris.
Thoughts of my dad have the tears returning. I need to know he's okay. I need to fucking talk to him. I need to know the truth.
Reaching out for the only towel on the rack, I attempt to wrap it around myself but it does very little to cover anything.
After finger brushing my teeth with Kane's toothpaste, I suck in a deep breath and pull the door open. I haven’t heard him on the other side so I can only hope he's still downstairs and I can get some clothes on before he appears once more.
Thankfully, his room is empty, and as promised, there's a shirt and a pair of what look like brand new boxers folded on top, but I don't make it all the way to the bed because the picture on the nightstand catches my eye.
Until I pulled it out of my little memory box to put inside the letter to Kane, I hadn’t looked at it for months. It was easier to have it out of sight, although I never forgot. Not once.
Reaching out, I lift it from the side and stare at our baby as the pain of losing him washes through me once again. Everything that happened after hearing that devastating news will stay with me forever. I already know that I will never feel pain like that ever again. It was crippling.
I'm so lost in my memories that I don't hear him coming back up the stairs, and it's not until he's closed the door behind him, his stare landing on my barely clad body that I realize he's even there.
"Sorry, I—"
"It's okay." Placing the scan back down, I turn to him. "Whoa, I thought you said you can't cook," I say, taking in the tray full of food in his hands.
Ripping his eyes from my legs, he clears his throat and finds my eyes.
"It's just pancakes."
"They look great, thank you."
"You're welcome."
