AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I release an inner sigh, glad she’s relenting.
She settles back in the chair then I sit in mine. I push the candy and chips over to her.
“I brought you snacks as well. I know they don’t really give out the good stuff here.”
She looks at it but doesn’t pick it up. Instead, she grabs a handful of hair and starts to roughly run the brush through it. Much harder than I did.
I crack open the book and look down, feeling her eyes on me as I start reading. Every few pages, I glance over at her and find her watching me intently while she pulls the brush through her hair. The force of it makes me wince internally, and I really wish I hadn’t fucked things up so I could do it for her. At this rate, she’s going to tug half of it out. I let her do it herself, though. She’s been through enough without me bossing her around on top of everything else she has to deal with. My throat suddenly dries, and I have to clear it to keep reading.
As I near the end of chapter two, I look over at her again to find her fast asleep. The hairbrush hangs limply in the ends of her hair. The hand she was brushing with rests against her chest as her even breaths move it up and down. My gut twists at the peacefulness of the sight, and for all she has ahead of her on the long road to recovery.
I tuck the receipt from my shopping trip into the book as a bookmark and set it on the tray at the end of her bed. When she wakes up later, she can see what else I brought. I stand and shrug on my jacket, but my feet feel cemented to the floor. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave her here to wake up alone. But I can’t stay all day. Tavers is probably waiting at my house, and I have to get myself ready to return to work. Not to mention the fact I really have no damn business coming here.
I roam my gaze over her, stopping again on the hairbrush. I wonder… As carefully as I can, I lean forward without touching the bed. I balance precariously on the balls of my feet. If I fall, there’s going to be hell to pay. With my right hand, I grab the handle of the brush and lift it slowly from her chest. Once it’s no longer touching her body, I use my left hand to unwind some of the tangles. It’s a slow job, one I don’t really know why I’m bothering with, but I’ve already started. I’d look like an ass to stop now.
It takes a few minutes, but before she wakes, the brush comes free from her hair. It takes more than a few strands as prisoners, probably more from her less-than-gentle brushing than from me, but I still feel bad. I drop the brush with the other items and without a backward glance, walk out the door.
