“I’ve never needed a shower so damn much,” I say. “Sorry about my smell.”
“It’s fine.”
I always showered before we went to bed. Sometimes we even showered together, saying it was to save water when really it was foreplay. I loved standing behind her, her back to my chest as I washed her body, my hands finally roving to the places I’d fantasized about every time I looked at her that day.
She’s sitting, and I make myself look at anything but her as I walk to the other chair and sit down in it.
“If you start to feel ... you know, intensity, tell me,” she says.
“I’m not a bomb that could blow at any second. I just can’t look at you without feeling anything. If we do it like this, I’ll be fine.”
I have to be. We’ve got enough problems on this island without me causing ground-splitting earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. I’ve got to learn to harness my feelings for Briar.
“What do you feel when you look at me?” she asks.
I exhale softly. “Regret. Desire. Anger. Jealousy.”
“Talk to me about the regret.”
I shake my head, unsure where to even start. “I’m not good at this.”
“You’re not good at what?” She’s keeping her tone even, like a therapist.
I’m not built to sit in a chair and discuss my feelings. I’m good at many things, but this isn’t on the list. It’s what she wants, though, so I have to find a way.
“I’ve never let myself be more to a woman than a good fuck. I don’t know how to”—I exhale hard, frustrated—“care for a woman in nonphysical ways, I guess.”
“I think you know more than you realize. You always listened to me, and that made me feel cared for.”
“I do care.” I clear away the gravel in my throat. “I just don’t show it very well.”
“You don’t show it with words, but I felt it,” she says softly. “In the way you looked at me and ... the ways you touched me. You never let me think there was another woman you’d rather be with or even look at than me.”
My chest hollows out with a deep ache for her. “There never has been, B. You caught me by surprise.”
A few seconds of silence pass, and then she sniffles. A fist closes around my heart.
“Are you crying?”
Another sniffle. “I miss you calling meB.”
Emotions surge through me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. I wantto be able to do this with her, and I don’t want her to hold back on what she says because of the way it affects me.
“I miss everything,” I say. “I miss every second I had with you. I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry.” I take another calming breath. “I was wrong for not telling you, and I was wrong for my part in making this place what it is.”
“I’ve talked to McClain about it. He told me it was meant to help people.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Will you tell me about it? How you got involved? Why you got involved?”
My fight-or-flight response kicks in hard. The adrenaline hits. My stomach bottoms out and my heart gallops unsteadily. I steady myself, taking a deep breath.
“Give me a second,” I say.
“Do we need to stop?”
“No. Just ... wait.”
