Salvation (10 page)

He must have been able to tell from the sound of the water that I hadn’t managed to get into the shower yet.

“I...I don’t know.” My teeth were chattering so violently I could barely speak.

I was facing the shower, not the door, but I was aware when Gideon walked back in.

He didn’t say anything. He just walked over to feel the temperature of the water and adjusted it a little warmer. Then he put his arm at my waist and helped me walk into the shower.

I was still in my tank and panties as the spray starting to run over me. It felt so good that a funny little moan escaped my throat. Gideon had kicked off his shoes, but he was still wearing his t-shirt and khakis, which were both soaked now from the water of the shower. He didn’t appear to even notice it.

I reached toward the loofah I always scrubbed myself with. He picked it up to hand to me but looked at the scratchy surface of it first. His mouth twisted in a scowl, and he thrust it outside of the shower to drop on the floor.

Sometimes I would scrub myself raw with that brush. Maybe he somehow suspected.

He gave me a washcloth instead and moved the bottles of shampoo and body wash so they were more easily in my reach. Then he stepped out again and shut the shower door.

I could tell he was still in the bathroom, right outside the shower. The door was frosted so he couldn’t see anything but a silhouette. But I wanted to take off the rest of my clothes and didn’t want to do it with him standing right there.

“My dad left some clothes here. They’re on the shelf of the coat closet. You might find something dry to wear there.”

“Okay. Just call if you need me.”

I’d needed him enough already. I’d needed him far too much. I wasn’t going to ask for help again.

When he left the bathroom, I took off my wet tank and panties and cleaned myself up as quickly as I could, since I suspected he’d be coming back pretty quickly.

I’d managed to finish, turn off the shower, and wrap myself with a towel when he tapped on the door. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I need something to change into.”

“I’ve got something here for you.”

“Okay. You can come in.” Despite the warm shower, my teeth were still chattering.

I was completely wrapped in a big towel and mostly behind the shower door when he came in to put the pajamas he’d found in one of my drawers on the toilet lid. He didn’t even glance over at me. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants that were a little too short and a little loose around the waist. But at least they were dry and he was clothed.

He shut the door behind him when he stepped out again.

I towel-dried my hair the best I could and put on the pink pajama set he’d found. Then I slowly limped back out to the bedroom.

He wasn’t in the bedroom, but I could tell he’d changed the sheets on the bed. The sweaty, bloody ones were in a pile on the floor.

Since he wasn’t in the room, I kept limping into the main room of the cottage, and I found him in the kitchen. He was fixing a mug of herbal tea.

I stood like an idiot, staring at him and shivering helplessly, hugging my arms to my ribs.

He looked over at me and his face softened visibly, for the first time since we were washing dishes. “You should go to bed. But, here, try to drink this first. Maybe you’ll stop shivering.”

I took the tea with both hands, afraid I might spill it with my weak arms. Then I went to the couch and sat down, sipping it slowly.

“You don’t want to go to bed?” he asked, coming over to stand beside me.

I shook my head over another sip of hot liquid. I didn’t want to go to bed. Bed was where the demons came most easily.

He found a plush blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me. I pulled it closer as I drank my tea, trying to get warm.

Gideon disappeared, and I didn’t know where he went until he came back out with bandages for my feet.

He knelt down and put them on the raw places as I finished the tea, and I tucked my legs up under my body when he was done.

My teeth were still chattering, though. I couldn’t seem to stop.

“Do you want some more tea?” he asked, taking the empty mug out of my trembling hands.

I shook my head.

“Do you want another blanket?” His eyes were searching my face urgently, and I knew he was worried.

There was nothing I could do about that now, though. I just shook my head again.

“What can I do for you, Diana?” he asked, starting to reach over toward me but then stopping himself.

I couldn’t do anything except shake my head. I needed something, but I wasn’t sure anything could help.

We sat for a minute without speaking, the silence broken only by the chattering of my teeth.

Finally, his mouth twisted, and he said, “I don’t know what else to do.”

And for some reason, for no good reason, that made me think of something he could do. “Can you—” I broke off the question because I didn’t want to ask it. I didn’t want to
want
it.

“Can I
what
?” He leaned over toward me, his eyes aching as much as my body. “Please tell me what you need, Diana. Anything in my power, I’ll do.”

I almost couldn’t say it. It took all the strength of my will to make my voice force out the halting words. “Can you...can you hold me?”

He made a sound in his throat—something akin to a groan—and reached out for me immediately. It was a little awkward at first, because I was wrapped in the blanket and we weren’t in a good position on the couch. But he eventually moved me into his lap, my legs draped over his thighs, so he could pull me against his chest and wrap both arms around me.

I shook and burrowed against him. “Tighter,” I mumbled, hiding my face in his t-shirt. He felt warm and hard and strong, and I wasn’t any of those things.

His arms tightened around me, and it felt even better. Stronger. Like I might be able to lose myself in him. “Tighter,” I said again.

His face seemed to be in my hair, although I couldn’t sort through those kinds of logistics. But I heard him say thickly, “If I hold you any tighter, I’ll hurt you. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.”

For some reason, the words cracked the final shaky barricade holding back the flood.

I started to shake against him even more, but this time it was more from emotion than cold. And there were tears. My eyes burned with tears.

Gideon seemed to realize it too. “Oh, Christ, Diana,” he murmured, his arms and body still surrounding me completely. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t going to be okay again. But hearing him say it made me cry even more. I was sobbing into his shirt now—messy, ugly, helpless emotion—and there was nothing I could do to hold it back.

He just kept holding me. Sometimes murmuring soothing words. What they meant didn’t penetrate, but the sound of his voice did. My sobs finally died off, out of exhaustion and not really because I felt better.

I think I must have passed out or something, since the last thing I remember was his arms.

I
was in bed when I woke up.

It was light in the room, so it must have been morning, but I had no idea how the night had passed.

I got up, gasping as I put pressure on the ankle I’d twisted the night before. My entire body hurt. And my head ached. And my eyes and cheeks felt raw. But I went to the bathroom and then splashed water on my face before heading toward the kitchen for coffee.

I jerked to a stop in surprise when I stepped into the living area and saw that Gideon was still here, lying on the couch, sound asleep, covered with the blanket I’d been using the night before.

I’d assumed he would have gone home to try to recover after such a long night, but he was definitely still here. I could even hear his even breathing from where I stood.

For more than a minute, I gazed at him. His hair was sticking out on end, and he needed to shave. His long legs were bent up awkwardly as he tried to fit on a couch he was too big for. And one of his arms was out from under the blanket, his hand fisted in the plush fabric.

And I felt the strangest thing. The most unexpected thing. It had been so long since I’d experienced it I almost didn’t recognize what it was.

It was a rush of affection. Of fondness. I was suddenly overwhelmed with how much I genuinely cared about this man.

Of course, I’d always known how much I admired him, appreciated him, recognized good qualities about it. Even that I liked to be around him more than other people. But, for the last few months, I’d been so completely consumed with trying to make it through every day that I hadn’t had room in my heart for anything extra. Even something as normal and simple as human affection.

The feeling was so strong and so unexpected that it rocked me. It took me a minute to orient myself to it.

When I could breathe again, I continued into the kitchen, since I definitely needed some coffee now.

It was okay, I realized as I brewed myself a cup from my fancy machine. It was good. It had been scary at first, but now the feeling was growing familiar again, like an old friend.

Gideon deserved my affection. It was wrong not to give it to him. I felt almost excited as I took my first sip. Like I was a tiny step better than I’d been yesterday. Like I’d made progress.

I stepped out of the kitchen to watch him sleep again, but I’d only taken a couple of sips when his eyes opened.

He looked groggy, but he smiled as he saw me.

I smiled back, feeling that wave of affection again.

His smile deepened in response to mine, and we just smiled at each other like dopes for a minute.

Then he finally seemed to wake up all the way and process where he was. “Fuck, what time is it?” he asked, straightening up and pushing down the blanket to his lap.

“Just after eight. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Yeah. That would be great. Thanks.”

I turned around and headed to the kitchen, but then I heard him get up and walk to the bathroom. He was in there a few minutes so I looked through my cabinets and refrigerator to discover if there was something better than cereal for breakfast. There wasn’t.

When he was done in the bathroom, I brought him his coffee and sat down on the couch. He was standing over me, like he wasn’t sure what to do.

I frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He lowered himself beside me and picked up his mug. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Kind of sore.”

He nodded, obviously unsurprised by this fact.

“You didn’t have to stay here,” I told him. “I know there wasn’t much room on the couch. Did you sleep all right?”

“Yeah. It was fine. It was really late, and I was tired. I hope it was all right that I stayed.”

“Of course. Of course, it was all right. I...”

He tilted his head, trying to see my expression which I was futilely trying to hide with my messy hair. “You what?”

“I...I wanted to thank you. For last night, I mean. It was more than... I mean, you were amazing. So thank you.”

I must have sounded like an idiot, but he didn’t seem to mind. His face softened. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was here.”

There was a silence that followed, as if he were waiting for me to respond, to say something else. I didn’t, though. I had no idea what to say.

I winced as I rolled my ankle, which was throbbing more and more. I tried to peek at it from under the blanket without Gideon noticing and saw it was swollen and discolored.

After a while, he got up to refill our cups. He also brought back a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. I had no idea what it was for until he made me stretch my leg out. Then he put the bag on my swollen ankle.

“You should have told me you twisted it last night,” he said.

“I didn’t think about it.”

I felt kind of awkward with my leg stretched out this way and tried to find a better position. Then Gideon reached out an arm and pulled me toward him so I was leaning against his chest.

It was comfortable and felt casual—not nearly as vulnerable as our position last night—so I figured it was all right.

He kept his arm around me as I adjusted the blanket, since the frozen bag on my ankle was making me cold.

“What
were
you thinking about last night?” he asked, as if there hadn’t been a pause in conversation.

I knew what he was asking. He wanted me to explain the state he’d found me in.

He probably deserved an explanation after the way he’d helped me, but that would mean letting so much pain out of the little compartment I tried to contain it in, and I just couldn’t risk doing that. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, managing to stay in my position against him and still sip my coffee.

He let out a long breath. I didn’t know if he was just relaxing or was disappointed or what. He didn’t reply immediately.

I didn’t say anything either. It was nicer just to sit here together, without thinking of bad things. Without thinking of anything, really.

Then he said, without segue or preface, “I’d been undercover for a couple of months when I walked into one of the apartments those guys hung out in.”

It took me a minute to orient myself to what he was talking about, the words came so much out of the blue. I adjusted enough to look up at his face, but he was staring across the room, not looking at me.

He continued, “Sometimes I could distance myself from what happened around me by reminding myself of the purpose, of the good that would come out of it. But sometimes there was no way to get that distance. I’d feel like I was one of them, just like you said. Because I was there. Because I looked and acted like them. Because I spoke their language. My grandmother was Albanian—I don’t know if I mentioned that before. Because they thought I was their friend. It was like I was one of them.”

I had no idea why he was telling me this, my mind still trying to catch up. But I was really glad he was because I wanted to know this part of his self. “I have no idea how you did it.”

“There are methods. Ways of dealing with it. They teach you all kinds of techniques. But the lessons don’t always work. Anyway, it was a couple of months into my time with them that I walked into that apartment. We were supposed to be meeting there, but I guess I got there too early. Only the boss was there, and he had a girl with him.” Gideon’s voice was even, steady, but he still wasn’t looking at me.