“He blindsided me,” Rod mutters.
I nod.
There’s nothing more to say.
Gideon was always quick to tell Rod he would watch over me like his own daughter. We all bought the lie. He was a convincing shyster.
“Let me wash you,” Rod says after a few long minutes of silence.
“Okay.”
Rod lathers my entire body with a shower gel he grabs from the wall niche. He vigorously scrubs every last part of me. The steam helps permeate the cleansing scent of lavender. He then moves onto my hair. Feeling his strong hands against my scalp is so soothing. He’s so good at this. Once he’s done, he quickly soaps his body and washes his hair. I just watch, mesmerized. He barely spends any time on himself, yet he took the time to pamper me.
“Let’s get out,” he says, shutting off the water before stepping out of the shower. He grabs hold of a gray towel, wraps it around my shoulder and uses the end to gently dry off my face. The whole time we exchange furtive looks, never really locking eyes with each other. He grabs another towel and hands it to me. “For your hair,” he says.
“Thanks.”
He wraps another towel around his waist.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Before I know it, he picks me up in his arms.
I have no desire to fight him on this. Instead, I drop my head against his muscular chest and close my eyes.
“Will that work?” he asks when he steps into Isobel and Rory’s guest bedroom. He sets me on my feet and I follow his gaze to the bed. That’s when I notice the pile of clothing—we each get a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
We finally stare at each other.
His eyes radiate such compassion and tenderness.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Dom, there’s nothing for you to apologize about. End of story.”
I nod, holding back another wave of sobs.
Since Isobel is much taller than I am––and we aren’t the same size––the clothing doesn’t fit properly. It’s a small price to pay considering, I don’t have to wear anything that’s been in contact with Gideon.
“Come on,” Rod whispers. “You need to eat.”
Then it hits me.
“I haven’t eaten anything since lunch,” I say. Other than the bite I took from my wrap before my past came crashing into my present.
“I figured that much,” Rod smiles warmly.
When we reach the kitchen, Isobel and Rory already have a feast displayed on the table.
“Wow. This looks so good,” I say with a wary smile.
“Sit over here,” Isobel points to a chair. “I want you between Loki and I,” she says in a motherly way.
I look at her confused.
