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“Amazing,” she says breathlessly. My girl hits me with the brightest smile, mending a little piece of my heart after the chaos and pain of the evening.
I grin and take Gemma’s backpack before gathering her delicate hand in my much larger one. “I’ll take you on a longer ride once you’re all healed up,” I promise, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. I can’t help it. I always want to be touching her in some way.
Unlocking the door, I lead Gemma inside and set her bag down. She looks up at me, those green eyes shining with trust but also a bone-deep weariness.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” I ask softly. I can tell the excitement and adrenaline of the night are wearing off, and she’s going to crash soon.
Gemma nods, and I lead her to the main bathroom in the hallway. I also have one in the main bedroom, but I don’t want to freak her out or make her uncomfortable. Guiding her to sit on the edge of the tub, I grab a washcloth and the first aid kit from my medicine cabinet and get to work setting out the bandages, a cleansing wipe, and antibiotic cream.
I kneel in front of Gemma and take her hands in mine. She swallows thickly, and tears form in her emerald eyes. Without her saying a single word, I know what she’s thinking. I can feel it with every cell in my body. Nobody has ever taken care of her like this. No one has ever been kind or gentle with her.
It kills me to know that, but it hardens my resolve to fill her life with enough love to drown out the darkness she’s experienced.
Taking the damp washcloth, I wipe away the dirt and grime on her face in gentle circles. When she’s cleaned up, I get a better look at her black eye. There’s a slight cut on her cheek, and I get to work disinfecting the wound. I finish with a soothing ointment, then cover the cut with a small bandage.
“I’m so sorry, Gemma,” I whisper, ghosting my fingers around the edges of her bruise.
“For what?” she asks, matching my soft tone.
“I knew something was wrong that day you showed up at the clubhouse, but I just… I let you leave. If I had any idea you were being abused…” I close my eyes and inhale sharply, the guilt twisting up my stomach.
Gemma places her hand on my chest, right over my heart. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs.
I open my eyes and rest my hand on top of hers. “It’s not yours either.”
Gemma nods and nibbles her bottom lip as the first tear falls.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper, careful to avoid her swollen bruise as I wipe her tears.
I stand, taking Gemma with me and wrapping her in my arms. I hold her for long moments, but eventually, we break apart. She needs a warm shower followed by sleep. I’m happy I can provide both for her.
After showing Gemma how to work the shower, I drop off towels and some of my clothes for her to change into. Black sweatpants and a black T-shirt, of course. Gemma wouldn’t have it any other way.
I make a note to place an ice pack on her nightstand as well as vaseline to rub over the skin for discoloration. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to tend to bruises, but I know the drill.
Ten minutes later, I’ve nearly worn a path in my hardwood floor from pacing around the living room. I stop when I hear the bathroom door open, holding my breath until Gemma tiptoes into the living room.
She’s gorgeous with her red hair braided and slung over her right shoulder. I love seeing her in my clothes, and I grin when I notice she’s rolled up the sweatpants to make them fit. She’s adorable in my too-big shirt and pants, and it makes me want to curl up with her in my lap.
Soon.
“Feel a little better?”
“Yes, thank you,” Gemma says quietly. She looks down at her feet, wringing her hands in front of her. I hate seeing her nervous like this.
“No need to thank me,” I tell her, closing the distance between us. She looks up at me again, and I reach out, running my fingers over her neatly done braid. “Knowing you’re safe is enough.” Gemma tilts her head to the side and furrows her brow. I smile and kiss her temple. “Ready for bed?”
“Yes, please,” she says with a yawn.
I chuckle and take her hand, showing her to the guest room. I’ve never had anyone else over, but the place was already furnished with the basics when I moved in, and I never had another use for that room.
“I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” I tell her once we’re standing next to the bed. I’m finding it hard to let go of her hand.
She looks down at where our fingers are laced together, then up at me. Gemma sways forward, her gaze locked on my lips.
Fuck, I know what she wants. I want it, too, but I don’t want to overwhelm her.
When I see a slight hint of doubt and rejection in her eyes, I can’t hold back. I’d never reject Gemma, and it’s about time I show her exactly what it means to be mine.
