Page 97 of I’m Already Gone

I step back, allowing the water to continue its flow. “How are you doing? Comfortable?” I ask, trying my damnedest to keep my gaze focused on her face instead of the sight of her wet, naked body.

“Yeah,” she croaks, watching me with a heavy, knowing look in her eyes.

I grab the washcloth and her favorite lavender-scented body wash and lather it quickly. My eyes still firmly fixed on her face, I reach out to start washing her shoulder, but she stops me, a small hand catching my wrist.

“I can do this part, Ethan.” Her tone is a plea for a shred of normalcy.

“Okay.” I hand her the cloth.

While she washes the top part of her body, I peel off my heavy, waterlogged T-shirt and toss it outside the shower stall.

When I turn back, Lily watches me, her eyes half-hooded with lust, tracing the line of my chest. The air crackles. I straighten my back, clenching my fists to my sides, holding myself rigid. I want to touch her, to claim her, to push her back against the chair and forget the cancer, forget the fear, and be with her.

She quickly looks away, breaking the charged silence. “Can you wash my scalp?”

“Of course,” I respond, a little too quick, a little too eager.

I pump a generous amount of shampoo onto the palm of my hand and step in front of her, straddling the space between her knees. “Close your eyes,” I instruct.

She obeys, and I lean in, massaging the shampoo into her scalp.

“Is this okay?” I ask softly.

“Yes. So good,” she almost purrs, tilting her head back, letting the water run down her face.

I repeat the process with the conditioner, then take the cloth and wash her neck, shoulders, and the length of her back.

My jeans cling to my body, heavy with water, but I focus on the task.

“Why are you doing this, Ethan?” The question comes out like a whisper in the rushing water.

I pause, the washcloth midway down her spine. I look deep into her eyes, leaning closer so she can hear the sincerity in my voice.

“Because I broke my promise to you the day I married you, Lily. The vow to be there in sickness and in health. I failed you when you needed me most.” A slight crack slips through my words, but I press on. “Regardless of what you may believe, I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

I lower my gaze, squeezing the excess water out of the washcloth and hanging it on the bar. I meet her eyes again. “I want you to get better, Lily. And the best way of doing that is making sure I take care of you. For as long as you allow me to. But I swear to God, I hope you won’t ask me to stop.”

I reach past her and twist the water off.

I step out, my soaked jeans squelching, and grab the nearest towel. I wrap her in it, lifting her from the chair and folding her into the soft cotton.

She buries her face in the thick towel, the lavender scent mingling with the steam. “Thank you, Ethan,” she mumbles.

Instead of replying with words, I tighten my grip around her, a silent vow that I will never let her heart shatter in my hands again.

Ethan

Iblink several times, trying to scrub the sleep from my eyes as the insistent alarm tone blares in the room.

My hand snakes out from under the covers, fumbling a moment before my fingers find the cool glass of my phone, hitting the silence button.

I push myself up, feeling the slight creak in my shoulders.

Entering the shower, I let the hot water scald the tension from all over my body. My hand grazes against the built-in shelf and stops. Sitting right there, mocking me, is Lily’s favorite body wash.

That fragrance triggers the moments we shared before everything fell apart.

When we first started dating, we had sex in the shower several times a week. We were insatiable. The steam would cling to the glass, fogging the world outside. All she had to do was look at me, lean back against the glass door, soap foam slicking her torso, and my dick would perk up to say hello.