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Crimson coats my inner thighs, and I close my eyes, fighting back tears as wave after wave of embarrassment floods through me. If it’s all over me, it’s probably all over his sheets. It has to be. The question is, how do I clean them when Mack’s currently sleeping in them?
My stomach rolls, and I cover my mouth.
Why?Why does this have to happen to me?
Cradling my head in my hands, I’m trying to devise a plan that leaves Mack in the dark when a soft knock echoes from the door.
“Kate?” Macklin calls. His voice is still rusty from sleep.
My head falls. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I repeat. “I, uh…” My voice trails off. I don’t know what to say.
“Kate, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I…”
Kill me now.
I seriously want to cry.
“Kate?” he prods.
I shove my hair away from my face again, desperate for a freaking elastic or something, and reach for the toilet paper, wiping myself up. I stare at the stained material, feeling more helpless than ever. I can’t walk around naked. Not like this. But I can’t stay in here the rest of the night, either. My clothes are in the family room. Not that it would fix the situation in the long run. I don’t have any supplies with me. No pads. No tampons. I don’t even have any in my backpack. I have some in my glove compartment, but since I don’t have my car…
Tears spring to my eyes, but I swallow them back.
Why me?
Why now?
After the amazing night we had, why did this have to happen?
“Kate, talk to me. What’s going on?” His words are laced with worry, threatening to choke me with more guilt. More embarrassment.
“I’m fine,” I call out, my voice cracking. “I, uh, I had a little issue.”
“What kind of issue?” His voice rises with panic. “Did you have a seizure?”
“No, nothing like that.” I look down at the inside of my thighs, paralyzed.
“What is it?”
A laundry basket sits next to the bathroom counter, and I eye it warily. I could always steal some of his clothes. Slip them on and make sure I’m locked and loaded with plenty of toilet paper while I try to find my own in the family room. What about after, though? What do I do? I can’t go anywhere without Mack driving me there.
“Kate, open the door,” he demands, his patience dissipating.
Shoving a ball of toilet paper between my thighs, I flush the toilet and grab one of his shirts from the laundry, not caring how dirty it is. I slip it over my head and keep my legs pressed together.
As I open the door, Mack squints from the light. Once his eyes adjust to the brightness, he scans every inch of me, searching for any bumps or bruises or hints as to why I’m hiding in his bathroom. When he comes up empty, he asks, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I um…” I cross my arms and lean against the doorjamb. “Is there any chance I can borrow your car?”
“Why would you need to borrow my car?”
“I need to grab something from the store.”
