Page 67 of Hot Damn
The more I look at her bruises the more I wish I could go back in time and not be late today. If only I’d been there when she and Whit came out of the school.
Hell, if I’d been there, I would have seen that motherfucker and made him leave before they ever laid eyes on him.
“It’s okay.”
Her words bring me out of my head. Again. And as she sinks deeper, bends her knees with a groan to go down on her butt, I shake my head to clear the thoughts of murder floating in and out.
When she’s waist deep, my hands and forearms under the water I ask, “You okay for me to let go?” I’m still holding some of her weight and I’m worried putting pressure on her hip, the back left flank of her butt and thigh, will cause her more pain.
“Yes,” she says as she leans to the right, her legs floatingslightly in the water in front of her. “I’m going to try lying all the way down. The tub is big enough.”
“It is.” I loosen my grip and slide my hands up her side, watching carefully in case she slips under. She’s almost on her back when I straighten. “If you’re all right on your own, I’ll grab the cream I mentioned and pain meds.”
“I’m okay.” She tips her head back and looks up at me. “Thank you. You don’t have to do this. I know I put you on the spot when I asked you to get me out of there.”
“I don’t need your thanks. And you didn’t put me on the spot. I would have offered to take care of you anyway. You were there for Whit.”
The smile she gives me is sweet, not like the grimaces I’ve seen in the last few hours. “Whitney is a great kid. I’d do anything for her.”
Her words are laced with pain and genuine affection, and I want to pull her closer and hold her tight.
Except that’s not the type of relationship we have.
Or do we?
I haven’t a clue. All I know is she pushes buttons and twists things inside me I’ve been unaware of before meeting her.
Before I got to know her I didn’t trust her, wanted to hate her, wanted to keep her away from me and Whit, and yet she’s proven to be an ally in my need to protect my daughter.
“I’ll go get…”
“Go. I’m good.”
Leaving the bathroom is hard, something I never considered it would be. And the need to rush back to Cami has me taking the stairs two and three at a time, before running to the utility room and checking the door to the garage is locked.
My hockey bag isn’t on the shelf where I usually leave it and I curse when I remember it’s still in the back of my truck. Unlocking the door I just locked, I yank it open and run around to the far side of the truck to pull my gear bag out.
“Fuck!” I need to dump my stuff in the machine. The ziplock bag I put my clothes in works to contain the stink for a few hours but any more than that and I may as well leave everything out in the open.
Taking the time to sort my gear, I make sure the washer is on before relocking the door to the garage and pocketing the cream for Cami’s bruises.
I make quick work of checking the doors and windows in the rest of the house. Satisfied the house is locked up tight, I head back upstairs.
For a second when I walk into the bathroom, I think Cami is asleep and about to slip beneath the water and drown, but her quiet voice dispels that fear.
“It’s good. Doesn’t hurt as much in here.”
“I’ve got the cream. It’ll soothe some of the ache too, and I’ve got some heat patches we can put on before you crawl into bed.”
I keep my eyes on her face because it took a split second to see the underwear she’s got on does nothing to conceal her from view now the material is wet.
“Are you ready to get out?” Shit! I forgot to get her something to put on. “Wait. I need to grab something from Whit’s?—”
“One of your shirts will work. I don’t know if I can stand anything around my waist, there’s some bruising there and when I prodded at it, it hurt, so sleep shorts won’t work.”
Her eyes are still closed, and her face has lost some of the tension from earlier.
My eyes immediately go to the area she’s talking about and I can’t seem to pull my gaze away as I say, “Oh, I didn’t think of that.”
