I turn off the water after I’ve made sure all the suds have swirled down the drain. The air suddenly feels colder without the steam. I’m not used to feeling vulnerable, but right now, I feel naked insideandout.
I step out of the shower, and Reese is already holding a towel. Gray. Of course it’s gray. God forbid we introduce a pop of color into his Murder Basement.
He doesn’t step closer than necessary, just extends it toward me. I take it from him and dry off quickly. No theatrics, no porn-worthy entertainment, no forcing him to look. Just the quiet efficiency of someone who knows the performance part is over.
When I’m finished, he hands me a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, both of them clean, soft, and…surprise!Gray.
I step into the sweats and pull them up to my waist. They’re a little big, but not by much.
“So reclaim it.”
He says it while I’m in the process of putting the shirt on. I pop my head out of the neckhole to find him staring at me again.
Not sure if I heard him correctly, I ask, “What?”
“Your name. Reclaim it. Let someone else call you by your whole first name and replace those bad memories of your dad.”
I wish I was as skilled as him at schooling my expression and hiding my emotions because I’m pretty sure the shock from this turn of conversation is written all over my face.
“Abductorandtherapist now? Boy, did I hit the jackpot.”
“It’s just a suggestion,” he says dismissively. “Take it or don’t.”
I frown, entirely unsure what to make of this.
“There’s one problem with that.” I peer around the basement to emphasize my point. “You’re kind of the only one around, and this is practically the first time you’ve spoken to me in a week. Now if you want to give me an idea of when I’ll begetting out of here—”
I guess my mouth runs a little too much for his liking.
He grabs me by the back of the neck.Again.
This time, I squirm, trying to fight him off. I reach up and dig my nails into his tattooed forearm, but his fucking death grip doesn’t ease, not until he’s dragged me back to the open door of my cell and shoves me inside.
“I already gave you one answer too many,” he says as he grabs the door to close it.
“Wait!” I swallow hard as his gaze meets mine. My chest shudders on an inhale meant to steady me. “I’ve never told anyone that before. About my dad.”
His hand stills on the door. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains carved from stone, eyes fixed on mine.
“Could I stay out there?” I ask, and I hate how small my voice sounds. “I didn’t see any other exits besides that locked door. I’m not going to try anything, I swear.” I pause. Swallow again. “I’m going fucking crazy in this room.”
Silence stretches between us. Heavy.
“Please, Reese.”
For a fraction of a second, something shifts in his eyes. It’s not softness, not quite, but something I dare to hope looks dangerously close to consideration.
Then it vanishes.
As he shuts the door, I hold his gaze until it’s gone, like maybe I can will him into changing his mind.
He doesn’t.
The lock seals with a breath of air.
And just like that, I’m back to four walls, a bed, and the sound of my own breathing as the only proof that I’m still here.
Cason’s uncle hasn’t paidthe ransom yet.
