Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
"Do you have—"
"The headache is mostly gone. It's more of a dull ache, and only hurts when I press my fingers to it," she says, lifting her hand to her forehead.
The bruise there is massive along with the accompanying goose egg, and I know she's going to freak a little when she sees it for the first time in the mirror.
"That's not what I was going to ask," I tell her with a soft smile, closing us into the hotel room.
Exhaustion coats me like a second skin, and I know she has to be just as tired, but showers will be required before we can go to sleep. With washrags provided by the hospital, I worked to wipe most of the blood from her skin, but there's only so much you can do in a triage bay.
"Sorry," she whispers. "I'm just so tired."
"Same. Let's shower."
She breathes a sigh of relief as if this is the best plan in the world.
I know her back is bruised from the fall but seeing it completely without clothing when I help pull the hospital-provided scrub top off of her makes me wince.
"You are going to be sore for a while," I mutter, gently letting the tip of one finger trace the purple and nearly black bruise on her right shoulder blade.
"I feel like I got run over by a truck," she says as she works down the scrub bottoms.
I strip quickly, turning on the shower and making sure the water is warm enough before helping her step over the side of the tub.
"I didn't think to stop and get different shampoo, conditioner, and soap," I say pointing to the prefilled dispenser on the wall.
"It's fine," she says, once again grimacing in pain when she lifts her hand toward the shampoo.
"Lean your head back."
She groans, the sound affecting literally every inch of my body when I help her lean her head back and soak her hair with warm water.
She clings to me, hands on my hips as I run shampoo-covered hands through her hair.
I wash it twice because that's what it takes before the run-off water isn't tinged pink.
Next, I condition her hair before soaping up my hands with body wash and running them all over her body, careful of where I touch and how much pressure I use.
Once she's rinsed and stepping out, I make quick work of getting clean.
I fight the urge to help her dry off as I dry myself. She isn't helpless, and I don't want her to feel like she is, but it's so fucking hard to watch her struggle and not step in. I don't know where the line is, and we haven't really had a discussion about what happens going forward. I'm fearful of her telling me she isn't interested or trying to push me away if I come on too strong.
Tears fill her eyes, and I can tell she's trying to fight them as she angles her face toward the ceiling.
"Tell me what's wrong," I urge.
"How do I ever go back to that house?"
"You don't have to," I assure her.
"I don't have any clothes, Eddie. I don't sleep naked."
"Sweetheart," I say, cupping her face. "I have an overnight bag, and you're welcome to anything in it."
"You just carry around an overnight bag?"
I shrug. "I've been on the move my entire life. I always have a go-bag. There are some T-shirts in there. Let's get you one."
"William wants me in DC with him," she says when we walk toward the bed.
She used my phone to call her brother and although I could hear her side of the conversation, I wasn't privileged to his.
"Is that what you want to do?" I ask, pulling a T-shirt from my bag for her and a pair of boxer briefs for myself.
I pull on my briefs and then help her with the shirt when it becomes clear that lifting her arms over her head is painful.
I climb into bed and open my arms to her. She turns off the bedside lamp before crawling slowly into my arms, struggling for a moment to get comfortable before settling against my chest.
I feel the tears from her eyes on my skin not a minute later.
"I don't have much to offer you, being a former fed, but from the sounds of it, I'm not unemployed. So that's a plus. Life with Cerberus won't look like anything you've ever experienced before, but I'd like you to consider it. You don't have to do a single thing alone, Cora. I'll be here as long as you'll have me."
"East Tennessee?" she whispers.
"Yeah," I say, knowing I'll have to have a very long conversation with both Hemlock and Kincaid about how things will work going forward.
"I love the mountains," she whispers, tears still leaking from her eyes.
Chapter 42
Cora
Despite waking up with every muscle aching, the first thing I notice is the warmth of his skin against mine.