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Silence spreads between us as I finish one half of the sandwich. It was nothing fancy, but I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started eating. It doesn’t even bother me that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me like I’m an animal in a zoo. Maybe he wouldn’t if I hadn’t tried to get out last night, but I couldn’t help it. I had to try something. Now I wish I hadn’t because, of course, I would’ve frozen to death before I got anywhere. I was too panicked to think straight.
Finally, he asks, “What were you going to do today if you didn’t have family or friends to spend it with?”
“I was going to watch TV. Christmas shows, movies, whatever I could find. I was planning on getting some Chinese from a place a few blocks away. It’s what I usually do on Christmas Eve.”
He snorts, and I look up at him, ready to be pissed that he’s making fun of me. Except he isn’t. His forehead is creased, his brows drawing together. “That’s depressing.”
“Not compared to this.” He almost cracks a smile, but not quite. Like there’s a real person in there, somewhere.
Don’t do that. Don’t make him human.
Once I’m finished, he takes the plate and leaves it on the nightstand. “You need to get cleaned up. I’ll draw you a bath. Come on.” He doesn’t open the matter up for discussion. Standing, he unties me and waits for me to join him. I do without thinking because what’s the alternative? I might make mistakes, but I try not to make the same ones twice.
And if the way they’re treating me right now is the result of my trying to get away, I don’t even want to think about how much worse it could get if I make another attempt. That’s why I sit on the closed toilet lid and watch as Evan turns the taps in the tub. He pulls out a couple of towels and leaves them for me, then turns my way with an expectant look on his face.
Oh. Right. He’s not going to leave me alone.
I can’t help but shiver a little as I turn away, taking the hem of my shirt in my hands. “No.”
“What?” I look at him over my shoulder.
“Don’t turn away from me.” There’s something different in his eyes now. Something I recognize. I’ve seen that look more times than I can remember, only I’ve never been in this position—defenseless.
That’s why I turn slowly back around, forcing myself not to look away or be embarrassed.I didn’t ask for any of this. None of this is my fault. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Thinking this makes it easier for me to take the shirt off.
That, and the heat between my legs when our eyes meet. I can’t help but remember what he and Mason did to me, how they made me feel. Is it going to happen again? I should want nothing less, but that’s not the truth of what’s going on in my head or elsewhere while I slide out of my panties.
He looks me up and down, breathing hard. “In the tub.”
I do as I’m told because I know better, and the warm water is such a pleasure. I sink into it, only now realizing how sore my muscles are from being in the same position for hours.
When Evan kneels next to the tub, I can’t help but go stiff. He ignores my reaction in favor of soaping up a washcloth. Without asking, he pushes aside the hair hanging down my back and starts washing my neck, my shoulders, and across my collarbone. He’s not exactly rough, but he’s not gentle, either.
“You know, we did this for you. Bringing you here was to save your life.” I’m not looking at him, choosing to stare at the wall in front of me instead, but I hear the hesitation in his voice. He takes his time, the words coming out like a series of grunts. Like he’s not used to talking this way to anybody. “It’s not like we decided to keep you for ourselves if that’s what you think.”
His words sink in, and I know he’s telling the truth. I feel it. “I guess I should thank you.”
“You’re right. You should.” He washes my arm, and a brief glimpse of his profile tells me he’s grinning. He’s actually capable of humor.
Suddenly, something else occurs to me. “What about you? Did you two have any plans for Christmas Eve?”
He snickers, sarcastic again. “Did you notice any decorations around the house? We don’t exactly celebrate around here.”
“I’m sorry.”
The motion from the washcloth slows almost to a stop. “Why?”
Now I wish I hadn’t said it. But I can’t take it back, either. “I don’t know. I guess it just makes me feel sorry for you two. Do you at least get each other gifts?”
“Do we strike you as those types of people?” I see his point. Then he sighs, continuing to wash my other arm this time. “We visit our mother. We do the whole Christmas thing with her because it makes her happy.”
That’s the last thing I expected to hear. “Wow.”
“That so surprising?” He moves on to my legs, lifting one into the air and starting at my feet. “Of course, we have a mother. We weren’t just, like, hatched.”
“It’s nice that you get a chance to celebrate, anyway.” I bite my lip, staring at the wall, trying to disassociate from the situation. Not that there’s anything terribly wrong about this—in fact, being taken care of is sort of nice. Even if it’s a little strange. Even if I can’t stop expecting his touch to change, to become more intimate.
Even if I want it to.
