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I simply stand under the water for the first few moments of my shower.
I have the water set to the hottest temperature I can stand, because I want to burn Miles McAllister off of my flesh.
I specifically asked Falcon not to join me.
This is something I need to do alone. Wash the dirtiness from me, the contamination.
I almost feel like I’m under one of those decontamination showers, the kind you use when you’ve been contaminated at a hazmat plant.
I grab the shower pouf, squirt gel into it, and scrub myself.
Then I scrub myself again and again and again.
My skin turns red from the heat and the scrubbing, but I don’t care. I want to scrub every bit of Miles McAllister off of me.
When I’m finally done scrubbing, I scrub some more.
Then I slide down the wall, sitting on the shower floor.
Tears want to come, but they don’t. Because I know my fight is far from over, and I can’t let weakness take hold.
Still, I let a few tears fall.
Just a few, and then I force myself to stand, and I wash my hair.
By the time I’m finished, the shower is no longer scalding. It’s merely hot. And it’s time to get out.
I didn’t ask how large of a water heater this place has. I didn’t ask anything.
Because though I’m happy to be here—happy to be with Falcon because it’s where I want to be more than any place in the world—I know what lies ahead of us.
My family and the McAllisters will not stop. They won’t stop until they achieve their goal.
I need to find out why this marriage is their goal. Then I might be able to find a way to get out of it.
If only I could speak to my mother alone, but I know that can’t happen.
My father will keep tabs on her.
My father.
I step out of the shower, grab a towel, wrap it around me. Then I dry my hair with another.
My father.
My father who I know loves me, whose first instinct is to protect me. It’s why he let me out of this after college, and why he allowed me to leave Austin and move to Summer Creek to work as a parole officer, no longer doing the family’s bidding.
But something happened between then and now.
Something to make him change his mind.
He lost both of his sons, and I know he wouldn’t give up his only daughter without what—in his mind—is a damned good reason.
Fatigue takes over then.
What time is it anyway? Sometime in the middle of the night.
Will I be able to sleep?
