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Rolling onto my back, I assess my body. There’s a bone-deep ache in my ribs and a pulsing pain shooting across my face. I feel absolutely destroyed, both physically and emotionally. The past two days were a lot, and while I feel relieved, and can say for certain it’ll never happen again, I’m embarrassed at all the fanfare. It means I can’t ignore the situation any longer. Now that everyone knows, I’m forced to confront my demons, and I’m not sure how to do that.
I’m still processing when there’s a knock at my door. I attempt to sit up, but it puts too much pressure on my side. So instead, I ignore it. They’ll go away eventually, and I’m not up for company.
“Navy?” Rigger calls as he opens the door.
Fuck it. “In here.”
He walks in looking refreshed and beautiful, while I’m certain I look like something close to Sloth fromThe Goonies.
“I brought breakfast.” He holds up yet another plastic bag of Styrofoam containers.
Learning my lesson from yesterday, I know he won’t leave until he sees me eat. I choose the path of least resistance and hold out my hand for help to sit up. He’s there in an instant, and I appreciate the fact that there’s no pity on his face. It must take a great deal of effort to pull that off.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“How do I look?”
“Strong,” he says confidently, righting the strap of my tank that had fallen off my shoulder. And it’s the best compliment I’ve ever received. How am I supposed to keep my distance when he says things like that and crawls into bed with me to make sure I’m okay? “Let’s get you up. I thought we could eat breakfast outside.”
“I don’t want to.”
He smiles, and I swear, my heart stops. “I know, but the fresh air will do you good.”
“You’re not hearing me. I don’t want to.”
“And you’re not hearing me. Even if I have to pick you up and carry you out there, we’re going to the pool deck for breakfast.”
“I really hate you right now,” I groan.
“I know that too.”
He helps me to the bathroom, where I pee and brush my teeth, avoiding the mirror. I’m not ready for that. Back in my room, Rigger holds up a T-shirt to put over my tank top.
“What if there are guests out there? You really want them to see me like this?”
“I checked, and no one is using the pool right now. I also told the staff to not let anyone back there for an hour.”
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” I grumble as he pulls the shirt over my head.
I can’t lie that the sun feels incredible as we slowly walk around the property to the pool area, though I’d never admit it to him.
He pulls out my chair at one of the umbrella-covered tables and takes the food out of the bag. “I got you bananas foster French toast because I know it’s your favorite. In case you didn’t want sweet, I also got a two-egg breakfast.”
“Thank you. The French toast sounds good.” Picking up the fork he set in front of me, I cut off a small bite and place it in my mouth, savoring the sweet bread. Rigger’s eyes are on me the whole time, making me uncomfortable. “What?”
“I have something to say, but I need you to not go nuclear about it,” he says.
A shiver runs up my spine. “What?”
“I was talking to Mary, and she gave me the number for someone you can talk to.”
I scrunch my nose. “Like a shrink?”
“A therapist. The club has one contracted for any of the girls who need it, and”—he squints over at me—“I think you might need it.”
I scoff. “I don’t need a therapist. What happened is nothing new. I just need a few days, and I’ll be good. I swear it.”
“See, I don’t think you will, or at least you shouldn’t be. If you think you’ll be okay after a few days, I’m even more concerned.”
