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“What would you like?”
“It’s almost three in the morning. Maybe breakfast? And I don’t have any groceries—I was going to do my shopping yesterday.”
He smiles. “I’ll get waffles delivered.”
“Sounds great. I think I need a shower. I feel gross in my dress and boots right now.”
“No problem. I’ll wait out here for the delivery.” But he pauses. “Unless you feel shaky in the shower. I don’t want you falling?—"
“I’ll be fine. But thanks.” The truth is, as much as I find Anderson comforting, I just want to shower while knowing he’s got my back by guarding my front door. It’s stupid, maybe, but just knowing he’s there to take care of possible intruders makes me feel better.
He smiles and nods. “Anything you need. Anything.”
“I’ll be out soon.” In my bathroom, it’s like time slows down. Catching a glimpse of myself, I realize he’s right. I look like shit. Hollows beneath my eyes and my hair’s a mess. But the worst part is my expression. I look like I’ve been through hell, and I can’t make my smiling muscles work at all.
Why am I still in my coat?
When I go to shrug it off, though, I don’t want to. It feels like taking away some layer of protection I need. But I don’t need it now. I’m home. Anderson is out there to protect me. I’m safe.
Safety feels like a lie.
But I tell myself I have to do this, and I shrug off the coat. Unzipping my boots takes much longer than it should. More self-talk is in order. I’m not removing my armor. Just taking off my boots. I don’t need them to keep me safe. I am safe.
Yep. Still feels like a lie.
I turn on the shower to the hottest setting and watch as steam fills the room. It’s just me and my dress now. I can do this. But when I grab the hem, all my instincts tell me to leave it on. That if I take it off, then I’ll be under attack. The room feels too small. Too tight. Can’t breathe.
I get dizzy and remind myself to breathe. But my lungs don’t get the message. I have to hang onto the sides of the sink and breathe while watching myself in the mirror, ordering Mirror June to breathe steadily.
Maybe I should have made Anderson hang out in here.
But that seems silly. I don’t need a chaperone to shower. I can do this.
To do it, I hurl myself into the shower. As the water runs over me, I reach for the soap to make this fast, and when I try to rub it on my skin, I’m met by my sweater dress.
Right. That’s still on me. Crap.
I blow out a breath and wriggle out of the dress, along with my undergarments. Much harder when they’re wet, but I manage. When I’m under the hot jet of water, I hardly feel it. Maybe I’m numb or in shock or something. I dunno. But at least I can breathe in the shower.
Letting the water beat down on me, reality creeps in. I don’t want it to, but I can’t seem to stop it.
Oh, screw this. Maybe if I go see Anderson, I can keep my shit together.
I turn off the water and grab my robe, ignoring the pile of wet clothes on the floor. Tomorrow June can pick them up. I pad out to the living room and find him setting up the delivery waffles on my kitchen counter. “Hey.”
“So, I don’t know where you keep anything, but they came with butter and syrup, and bacon. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great. Probably. I don’t think I have an appetite right now.”
“That’s fine. We can eat later.”
I smile up at him. “You can eat now, if you want.”
He smiles back. “Not hungry, either.” Anderson puts the boxes into the fridge. “So, what do you want now?”
Flicking my eyes to the door, I see it’s locked, but that doesn’t feel like enough. So, I drag a chair in front of it and wedge it beneath the doorknob. I don’t have any illusions that it would stop them, but that’s not why. “This way, I’ll hear if they try to come in.”
He nods. “I’ll stay out here, too, so?—"
