Returning to the bathroom, I pull out a few things that I dump into the tub before loosening the top three buttons on my shirt and undoing my cuff links to roll up my sleeves as I return to the living room.
She’s standing still, arms wrapped around her, holding herself together and yet still falling apart. She’s a vision, bruises and all, and hearing that she tried to fight off Carl just makes her that much more awe-inspiring.
“Come.”
I say it loud enough for her to blink out of her own thoughts and move toward my voice before her eyes lock on mine. When she gets close, I turn and lead her into my roomand to my bathroom before turning off the water after checking the temperature once more, confirming it’s to my liking.
I look back at her. She’s standing, watching, but not moving. So I do it for her.
I close the distance between us and unbutton my jacket, then slowly lower it to the ground. She’s in nude panties and a matching strapless bra. But that’s not what I’m looking at. I’m looking for more marks on her porcelain skin. More flesh marred by hands that should have never even come close to touching her.
My eyes travel her body, noting each mark, every new bruise as I walk around her, only stopping once I’m facing her again. I give her a nod. Not one she returns, but it’s for me, not her. I’m nodding that she’s okay. Bruised and banged up, but nothing time and rest won’t heal.
“Get in,” I tell her, then turn my back, giving her space and time to decide to disrobe completely and climb into the tub.
Chapter 22—Payton
Breathe. Just breathe.
I keep telling myself the same thing. To take it one breath at a time. Things hurt. But it could have been worse if Tommy hadn’t shown when he did.
Closing my eyes, I steady my breath one last time before I bend and unwind the straps around both legs, then slide my shoes off. I don’t even check if Tommy’s back is still turned or if he’s watching me through a mirror before I unclasp my bra and lower my panties.
The tub calls to me. I can feel the heat radiating in the air around me. The feeling of being warm all over is a welcome pull as I lower my body under the water, letting it rise to the top of my chest as I rest back against a towel that was positioned at the edge of the tub to use as a pillow. Something he must have placed there for me. I close my eyes and just feel the heat seep into my bones before a gurgling noise starts and then is taken over by a steady humming sound as jets of water massage into my back.
My eyes snap open, and I watch in soft amazement as the water shimmers under the pulsating jets around the tub. Bubbles form and take over the top layer of the water, covering the entire length of the tub and coming up to my neck.
“Better?”
I look and see Tommy is still facing away, still not looking at me, and a feeling of peace comes over me. I’m completely covered up, no one can see me, and I feel less vulnerable now than I did before. Somehow, the bubbles feel like more of a barrier than his suit jacket ever could.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Only then does he turn and take in my head poking out among the bubbles. After nodding once more, like he did when he looked me over, he leaves. I expect him to close the door, but he quickly returns with a small stool that he places beside me.
I watch him as he leans over and untangles my hair, pulling the tie from my ponytail before he massages my scalp. Strong strokes of his fingers rub deep into my hairline. I close my eyes as I sink lower into the tub and just focus on this. Not before, not after. Just this. It quiets my mind more than anything else I can think of.
Warm. Cuddled by more bubbles than a grown woman should be. And strong fingers that push off the approaching headache.
And when the silent tears fall from my eyes, neither of us speaks about them.
I don’t hate tears. I know some grow to loathe them, but I accept them for what they are. Loss. Loss of whatever happened and grieving that loss.
I cried when I didn’t get a part in those first few years at dance school till I realized I couldn’t get everything. I cried for my parents and losing my home with them. I even cried after the first time I danced at the club. I let tears blur my vision at the reality that I lost my dream, and this is what I am.Because then, and still now, the idea of going back to what was seems impossible.
I owe too much money. I’ll never be able to repay all of it.
Even if I do, I’ll be too old to start again. The life of a ballerina depends on who’s willing to put up with you. Some can dance into their forties, while other companies end careers in their mid-twenties.
And honestly, I don’t know if I want that life anymore.
So much has changed for me. I once was a naive girl who didn’t know how to open a bank account and thought everything would work out for her because she had no thoughts as to the alternative. Now? I still don’t have a bank account, but I know now that there’s a cold, cruel world out there beyond the four walls of a dance academy.
Once the water cools and the bubbles fade despite the jets still going, Tommy stands and leaves. When he comes back, I don’t even question the towel and clothes that I know belong to him that he puts on the sink counter.
“Take your time getting out.”
I don’t nod, barely even blink before he turns, shutting the door this time and giving me space I thought I wanted. I should not want a person, let alone a man, this close to me after what happened, but I do. Or at least I want Tommy close. I feel safe with him on more levels than I can describe. And a warmth spread its way into my cold soul after he spent what felt like hours, but was probably closer to twenty minutes, massaging my head. Not doing any more than just making me feel comfortable. Not once forcing me to speak or calling out my tears. Not even looking below my face to see if a bubble miraculously vanished and parts of me showed.
