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I turn to look at her and grin.
“I like this look.”
She holds out her arms, and a flannel shirt hangs down well past her hands. Black sweatpants start to drop from her hips, but she grabs them.
“It’s all I could find. A man must live in this house alone. I can’t wait to see you in flannel.”
I want to kiss her, to hold her in my arms, but I’m still soaking wet and filthy. She’s clean, and I don’t want to ruin her new clothes.
“I put a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven, but there are a couple of cans of beans on the counter if you get hungry before they’re done.”
She nods and walks to the kitchen to peek in on the pizzas.
“Here.” I hold out the gun to her. “Hold on to this until I get back from the shower.”
She stares at it. “No, it’s better off with you. I have my knife. If someone comes, you’ll save me.”
I frown, hating her comment, but knowing she’s right. I go to the bathroom to shower and dress as quickly as possible. The task is hard because of how sore and dizzy I am, never mind that I can barely lift my right arm to shoulder height. But I make do and dress in a flannel shirt and khaki pants.
When I return to the kitchen and catch sight of Liesel pulling the pizza out of the oven, my heart beats again.
She smiles at me as she places the pizzas on plates and then carries them to the small kitchen table where she’s already filled two large glasses of water.
I try not to completely collapse into the chair as to not worry Liesel, but the sound the chairs makes when I sit gives me away. Liesel frowns, but we don’t speak of it. We both dig into the food and drink every drop of water.
We both keep our eyes on each other as we eat, trying to find answers to all our burning questions without actually asking them. I need to ask her what happened. I need to find out how broken she is, how much she hates me for not rescuing her sooner. But I’m enjoying the way she’s batting her eyelashes at me, the way her skin is glowing after her shower, and how adorable she looks in oversized flannel.
But I can’t get past the bruises on her face, though. I certainly can’t face what other bruises and marks I may be missing beneath the flannel.
“I’m sorry,” I start after we both have enough food in our bellies to have this talk.
“What do you have to be sorry about?”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. I got there too late.” I think of Rowan’s face, how smug he was that she’d made him a better offer. I close my eyes as I relive that memory. My mind goes to him beating her, raping her, taking everything left of her—all because I couldn’t fight off two men, some chains, and a drug fast enough.
“Langston.” I feel her hand on mine, and I open my eyes to find her kneeling in front of me.
“What are you doing?” I stand up abruptly and pull her up until she’s standing too.
“I’m trying to break through your horrid imagination.”
“What do you mean?”
She touches my hand to her face. “This is the worst that happened to me. I wasn’t beaten. I wasn’t tortured. I wasn’t raped.”
My eyes dart side to side, trying to figure out if she’s telling the truth or not. But all I find is an odd kindness staring back at me.
“You saved me before anything could happen.”
“Thank god,” I exhale sharply and painfully.
She shivers.
“Let’s go sit on the couch. I’ll start a fire, and we can tell each other everything that happened and make a plan to get out of here,” I say.
She nods, and our hands interlock as I lead her to a spot on the couch. Luckily, there is already wood by the fireplace, so I don’t have to go out into the cold so soon. I start the fire and then sit down next to Liesel.
“Tell me everything.”
