Page 92 of The Quiet Witness

She sighed in relief as the stark, white blanket of snow was replaced by the clean interior. Awaiting them at the door was Ghost with his nose lifted in the air, smelling the iron that clung to her. As the wolf-like dog approached her, worry evident in the upright hairs of his neck. Lucien took the moment to stride toward the curtains, shutting out the light.

Ghost leaned against her legs, letting her rest against his furry coat. Taking over Lucien’s steady presence. Like two sides of the same coin.

Footsteps stopped in front of her and Lucien’s deep rumble pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Wordlessly, she followed him to the bathroom. It wasn’t until she saw the dark brown countertops with a bamboo toothbrush placed neatly in the holder, a soap bar on a small piece of wood with its light sandalwood smell. That she realized she was standing in his, not her bathroom.

The confusion must have been plain to see as he quickly added. “I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable but memories tend to linger when they’re tied to certain places.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could whisper. But she wanted to let him know… that what he did mattered. Because of it, her space wouldn’t be a place of reminiscing on blood rushing down a perfect white sink.

His sole answer was a nod. “I’ll go get you a chair.” Bewildered as to why he would need one, she opened her mouth to ask but he was already out the door. A minute later, he entered with a kitchen chair, placing it in the tub he motioned for her to sit down.

“Why the chair? I can just get in the bath.”

He shook his head. “It’ll take the last of your energy to scrape all that away. Trust me, I know… help can be… good.”

A beat of silence fell between them.

Kate hesitated. Letting him help her clean her skin. It felt too intimate, too real.

It was a fork in the road.

“Let me help you.” The genuine care in his tone drew her over the threshold. And honestly, the thought of scrubbing away at her skin, in a desperate attempt to clean away today’s events. For once she didn’t mind being cared for. Not today.

She trudged over to the chair. Even such a simple act brought her off balance and reaching for the support of the tub. But Lucien was already there, a hand braced on her arm to help her sit down.

Kate stared at the red hand print embedded on the bath. So out of place in this pristine room. Squeezing her eyes shut, she drowned out the sight. Red, a color she would never wear again, would never smile at its beauty. Its innocence gone.

The warmth of the sponge touched her skin with care. Kate held back a wince, however careful Lucien wanted to be, there was no way to work around the ache present in every inch of her body. But even through the pain, it was nice. Every stroke of his hands bringing her a piece of comfort. It was the closeness, she mused. The touch of someone who cared.

Did he? She let those thoughts dwindle away. There was just this moment, where she sunk deeper in the chair, not wanting to think but just be.

He carefully lifted her shirt waiting for her to shrink back, only she didn’t. Kate raised her arms up, the blood drenched cloth squelching from where it was torn loose. Wearing nothing but leggings and her black bra, Kate felt his touch trail down to her arms, eyes fully focused on his work. Her abdomen came next, water trickling down, causing ripples to spread through the bath.

Like today’s actions had.

If only they’d stayed inside, if only she and Emily hadn’t convinced the widely smiling Isabel to come along.

“Don’t.”

Kate didn’t look up, knowing he’d see straight through her. His hand moved to cup her knee. Jagged scars ran criss-cross over his tan skin.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Her voice broke as the waterfall of her thoughts filtered through. “I sho-should’ve done something different, fought harder. What if she doesn’t make it?” Her voice faded to a whisper. “What if it’s my fault she doesn’t make it?”

“You were outnumbered and yet defended her fiercely. I’d wonder what would have happened hadn’t you been there.”

Her eyes raised to meet his. “Then you would have been.”

And then everyone would have been safe. His presence alone would have been enough to deter them.

Lucien shook his head. His grip tightened around her. “I should have been there. But if you hadn’t gone, I would have postponed, see? If you hadn’t had the heart to go.” He ticked a finger against her head in a tender move. “If you hadn’t been so damn stubborn this morning, Isabel would have been dead right now.”

“Isabel could still die.” She saw it in the paramedics, their hushed whispers, there were no guarantees. It was what kept attacking her mind, Isabel, the shock on her face, holding onto her abdomen for dear life. “If she lives… I know the memory of it will haunt me. But for her? How does someone get over that? Will she ever be able to walk out of a building without checking the shadows?”