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When my thoughts become too much for me to deal with, I decide to get up and take a shower. I’m hoping that will help me recharge and then I need to get some food into my system before the girls get here.
There’s no use in working myself up right now. I’ve already been feeling off, no use making myself get sick with worry. I’ll just have to get my ducks in a row as they like to say and hopefully that will keep me alive.
There’s still the matter of the Kings and my mother to deal with along with the other stress in my life. How the hell did all this shit fall onto my shoulders?
I fucking wish you were still here, Dad…
I get up and walk straight into the bathroom and strip off my clothes. I don’t hear any sound coming from the other room which is a good thing. At least I’ll have some peace without anyone disturbing me.
After I’m done stripping, I grab one of those shower-shield moisture-barrier plastic tapes and paste it onto the skin on my stomach around the gauze from the wound to avoid getting it wet. My doctor said I’m not supposed to get the stitches wet so I have to be careful. When I took my shower yesterday, I forgot all about those instructions but now I’m trying to take better care of myself. I’ll be able to get them off in a few weeks’ time hopefully.
Once that’s done, I grab some saran wrap and wrap that around both my forearms to cover the bandages there. It’s the best I can do since I couldn’t find anything else. Once everything is wrapped up securely, I step into the shower and turn it on.
I slide down onto the shower floor, directly under the spray and sit there for a while. I just want to wash away all the pain and suffering I’ve been dealing with but obviously that’s just wishful thinking.
After a while of sitting there, I finally find the energy to get up and finish my shower. Once I’m done, I dry myself before changing my bandages and dressing them with new ones.
When I’m finished, I walk back into my room and get dressed in a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt along with some flip-flops before heading downstairs.
It’s quiet when I get downstairs and I’m hoping it stays that way. When I get to the kitchen though, I hear yells and screams coming from the direction of the den which means the guys must be in there.
“Would you like something to eat, Miss?” one of the maids asks out of nowhere, startling me. I put a hand to my chest at the unexpectedness of her voice.
“Oh umm, yes please. Just some cereal and milk please,” I tell her, and she goes about making it for me. “Oh, and um, can you please heat my milk?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says.
I mean, I could’ve done that myself but since she asked, why not? That will have to do for now because I don’t feel like eating anything else. My appetite these days has been nonexistent.
I take a seat at the table in the kitchen and a few minutes later, she places my food in front of me. “Thank you,” I tell her. She nods before leaving the kitchen again.
I’m barely two mouthfuls into my food when the kitchen is suddenly filled with five bare-chested guys in basketball shorts. I groan internally at the interruption. Why did they have to come into the kitchen right now when I’m in here? I could have gone the whole afternoon without seeing any of them.
“Hey, babe, how are you doing?” Beck asks but I just ignore him. There was a time when we were close friends—with him being Riley’s brother and all that—but not anymore. Not after what he did.
I keep my head down and try to continue eating my cereal.
“I guess we’re getting the silent treatment,” Royce says next.
I finally look up at them and my eyes clash with Mason’s green ones. He’s sitting on the counter straight in front of me, staring at me. I feel a lump in my throat as all his words from this morning flit through my mind and I have to look away from him.
Grayson comes over to me and lifts me up with no effort before sitting down and pulling me back down to sit on his lap.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, whispering in my ear.
“I’m fine, I guess,” I mumble, turning to look at him.
“Did the nap help?” he questions.
“Did you do something to my water?” I demand to know, and he shakes his head yeah.
“I just wanted you to get some rest and not stress. You know, especially in your condition and everything you went through the last few days,” he says cheekily.
“Thanks, I guess,” I say, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Am I missing something here?” Nate asks in a puzzled tone.
I look up at him and the rest of the guys. They all have dumbfounded expressions on their faces. When I look back at Mason, well, if this was a cartoon, I’m certain there’d be smoke coming out of his nose and ears with the way his expression is shooting daggers at Grayson and me.
