Page 29 of Fighting For You
But this… she was as vulnerable as someone could get. She’d likely let anyone help her, but the reality it was me—me, dammit!—made me want to pound my chest and maybe sob a little. Emotional whiplash was a familiar bedfellow lately, but it’d taken a dose of steroids since she’d knocked on my door hours ago.
Her mouth fell open as I worked water into her dark brown hair. I’d always liked it, and nothing had changed in that vein—it was beautiful, as was she. She likely had fancy shampoo that smelled a lot better than mine, but I used some of what I had, lightly scratching against her scalp when she sighed at the contact. With the bubbles worked from her scalp to the ends at her shoulders, I rinsed. One cup, two, the suds slid down her bare back and trickled a path along her neck, running past the ridges of her collar bone and into shadows I didn’t allow myself to mine.
During rinsing, she began shuddering intensely, so I shut off the water.
“Can I get out?” Her voice emerged so small, it was criminal.
A check of my watch indicated she’d been in there six minutes. Was that really all? I’d lived a lifetime of thoughts in these fleeting moments with her at my mercy in this space. What a weird thought, because I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. The thought made me ill, despite what she might think. Still, a wild sense of satisfaction snaked through me as I felt the weight of the situation again.
When I swiped at her forehead, the temp had comedown a bit, though she was still damp and I wasn’t sure whether it was at all accurate after my shoddy job washing her hair.
“It’s only been a few minutes,” I said, then noticed her forlorn look and hurried to add, “Let’s give it another minute before you get out.”
The next sixty seconds ticked by slowly, and while it did, I prepped the bathmat and got a large towel for her.
As I reached out a hand, her eyes found mine first. Her teeth chattered and she blinked fast. “Can you not look?”
It wasn’t accusatory or angry, it was… pleading.
“I won’t. Let’s do it like this.” I held out the towel in front of me to create a curtain she could wrap up in.
“I think I need your help, though. To stand up.”
The last few words had a watery quality, and I internally begged her not to cry.
No. Noooo. What would I do if she cried?
I wasn’t someone who cared if a woman cried, or a man did for that matter. Hell, I’d spent more time crying in the last few months as Omi deteriorated and then passed than I’d spent doing anything else. But this was Jess. And I suspected seeing her sick or naked wouldn’t hold a candle to seeing her cry on the list of things she didn’t want to share with me. I’d witnessed it twice before—once after a mission gone wrong and a second time when she came to me demanding to know what’d happened with Kurt.
“Grab my arm and steady yourself while you stand, and I’ll get the towel around your back. Then you can wrap up in it, and I’ll help you out. Just tell me when you’re covered.”
I tilted my head way up so my gaze was pinned on the ceiling. She steadied herself with one cool hand on my wrist, then leaned enough weight I could tell she was standing.I slipped the towel over her shoulders and felt her tugging it from my other hand.
“Okay.”
Her soft word gave the all clear and I looked down to see her completely tucked into the towel, only her face and wet hair to be seen.
“Can I carry you?” I didn’t want to assume, but if she was shaky enough to be worried about standing up on her own, I didn’t want her to fall getting out of the tub.
“Yes.” Another whispered word.
My stomach flipped.
Seconds later, I set her on the couch. “Stay here for a minute and let me change the sheets.” I bolted to my bag and got out some boxers and a T-shirt. “If you want to get out of your wet stuff, toss them on the floor and I’ll get them washed so you can wear them later. For now, put these on if you can.”
Ten minutes later, she was nestled into the bed with my clothes on, something I wouldn’t overthink, and her temp wasn’t gone, but it had lowered enough to not keep me in panic mode. I’d wake her in a half hour when she could have more medicine.
I’d do anything.Anythingto get her better. I loved and hated the way she was fully dependent on me, but it couldn’t last, and I had to be able to tell her I’d done everything to get her well quickly. I’d never survive her anger when all this was over if I didn’t. Maybe it’d mean another bath or maybe I’d need to hike her out of here on my back… whatever it was, I’d do it.
“I’ll be back. Shout if you need anything,” I said stupidly, because she could hardly summon the strength to speak let alone shout.
Just as I was at the door, I heard it.
“Thanks, Jude.”
I turned, a weird tightness in my chest, and I resisted the urge to say, “No, thankyou.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
