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“It’s your hair,” she said, reminding herself of that more than she was reminding him. She motioned for him to sit on the lid of the toilet and reached for the scissors. She let her hands filter through his hair, and her surprise began to settle. He let out a hum of pleasure, so she indulged herself with another pass. More loose strands fell to his shoulders. “Why did you cut it?” she asked.
His shoulders tensed. “Growing it for as long as I did was kind of silly.”
Jami reached for the scissors. “Silly?”
“It was a superstition of sorts.” He shrugged, and she admonished him to hold still.
Her fingers had loosened the longer strands, and she worked as she listened.
“The last time I cut it was before Celia came to live with us. She had missed a lot of school, even before her stint at the hospital, and was reading a lot at the time. For history class, she came across a tidbit about a group of people who thought their strength came from their hair. It was the first time I’d seen her show interest in something since…” Malcolm trailed off.
In the silence, the snip of the scissors was soothing. Jami continued to fix his shorn locks. His head dipped toward his chest when she next passed her fingers through it.
“It was the first time she’d really talked to me about anything. I mean, she wasn’t mute, but it was more one-word answers when she was asked something. No smiles, not that I expected any, not after what she’d been through. I wasn’t even certain she liked me hanging around until one time, in the hospital, when I got up to leave and she grabbed my hand. It was only for an instant before it dropped away, but when I looked into her face, I finally understood. She let me hold her hand more after that.” His own curled where it rested on his knee. “I was the only one that she let that close.”
Jami understood why Celia had. Malcolm wasn’t overprotective out of some type of alpha need. No, he truly cared.
“So hearing her string sentences together about some old superstition stuck with me. I came across a book I thought she’d like that had a bunch of old wives’ tales in it.” He huffed out a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how many were about hair. Cutting it at night or on a certain day of the week or a certain night of the moon. All completely ridiculous, but Celia got quiet when she got to the one about a loved one dying.”
Jami shortened the hair around his right ear.
“I thought she was sad because she didn’t really have any loved ones, not after what happened with her family. I mean, her parents were still alive, but her father never called to ask about her, in the hospital or at the house. And her mother.” Malcolm made a noise in his throat. “Well, you know the story there.”
“I do.” Celia had shared some parts of her childhood in group therapy, back when Jami had felt so lost after her own father had strangled her, leaving marks that took a long time to fade. Jami had heard more while keeping her company lately. It had been an odd feeling to realize they were friends. Even back in high school, Jami had never had many friends.
“Celia’s hands had been broken in the fall, and brushing her hair was a struggle. She’d been thinking about cutting it short, but decided not to in that moment. And I realized it was for me.” Malcolm’s hand smoothed flat on his thigh. “Celia had taken care of her mother, even her father to an extent, but it was more out of responsibility, not a fear of losing them. I don’t think she ever loved them. How could she?”
“Obligation can be a hard thing to shake,” Jami murmured. She reached for the comb, running it through his hair and focusing almost too intently as her stomach twisted with her own memories.
“I was the first person she cared about losing. I’d become her family.” Malcolm’s hand came up to touch his hair, so close to his neck now. “So I promised her I wouldn’t cut my hair. I heard her laugh for the first time because, seriously, the superstitions were silly. But as my hair became longer, she would look at it and some of her tension would ease. So I never cut it.”
Jami clipped another longer strand near his opposite ear. “I kind of liked it long.”
Malcolm’s hand covered hers, where her fingers were still trapped in the scissors. “It was sexy, wasn’t it?” He turned his head, smiling at her. “I might grow it out again, but this felt right.” His brow furrowed. “It’s been months since she looked at my hair and relaxed. She looks at Trenton for that now.”
“You’re still her family,” Jami said.
“Yeah, but neither of us have to be superstitious anymore. We’ve found our happiness.”
Jami looked away, her heart doing that painful squeeze. She placed the scissors on the counter, then nodded toward the mirror. “Take a look.”
Malcolm stood, turning his head as he viewed her handiwork. His new haircut was close-cropped enough that none of the curl showed. It somehow made his shoulders look wider, the shadow on his chin that he got every evening darker. “You’re good at this,” he said.
“I can trim it regularly if you want to keep it this length,” she offered. Her heartbeat felt loud in her ears as their gazes met in the mirror.
“You sure?” Malcolm asked. “I get off pretty late. You might have to stay the night more often.”
Jami took a breath. “I was thinking maybe I’d move back in.” Her fingers twisted together. “I mean, if—”
Malcolm’s mouth found hers. Hair tickled them both, and they pulled away, laughing.
“You should shower,” Jami said, stepping back and sweeping at some of the hair with her foot. “I’ll clean up.”
Malcolm took the towel from around his shoulders and covered most of the floor. “I’ll clean in the morning.” His hand grasped hers. “Shower with me instead.”
When his brown eyes darkened like that, he was hard to resist. Not that she wanted to. She’d never showered with a man before. Under the soothingly warm water, his soapy hands roamed her body. The sensation brought a heavy ache to her breasts, especially as his palms slid over her nipples. He didn’t do more than touch. It almost felt like he was worshipping her skin, and if he didn’t kiss her again soon, she might actually beg.
When he dipped his head to let her wash his hair, she couldn’t resist. A shiver ran through his body as her fingers played with the ends along his neck. She had been eyeing his erection since she’d joined him, but Malcolm didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He closed his eyes while she rinsed his hair. After she was done, she reached around and stroked him. Malcolm’s eyes were hot then on hers.
