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It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders as I sit on the closed toilet lid while watching Jake draw me a bath. He had gone into total caretaker mode when I'd begged him to help me. He grabbed me and my stuffed dolphin and marched us straight to his room and into the bathroom. Then he sat me down, gave me one of his warm smiles that always makes me feel like I'm melting, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his sinfully sexy forearms, and started running my bath. He apologized for not having any of the fancy soaps and oils here like he did at the compound. I rolled my eyes since he wasn't looking and told him I couldn't care less about that.
He doesn't look back at me until the bath is full of sudsy water, pushing to his feet and flashing me a smile that's even softer than before. "Ready to get in?"
I nod, standing up and taking a step toward the bath. He arches a brow at me before letting his gaze fall to my body. "I mean, you do you, but… I don't think it'll be very comfortable bathing in your clothes."
My cheeks heat. I still haven't gotten used to wearing clothes. I forgot I even had anything to remove.
"I'll give you some privacy," Jake murmurs. "Call if you need me, okay?"
I whip around to look at him, heart in my throat. "You're leaving?"
"Just to the bedroom. I'll keep the door cracked so I can hear you."
"But…" I swallow hard, trying not to cry. This is stupid. I shouldn't need him here. And I don't, really. I could take a bath and probably be fine. But I want him here. I want him to sit beside the tub like he did at the compound. I want him to ask me questions and smile at me. I want Jake. Just Jake. All to myself. No survivors or operatives stealing his attention, no doctors asking invasive questions. Just me and him, like it was in the beginning.
"You'd like me to stay," Jake says softly, correctly interpreting my silence. He's always been good at that.
"Only if you want."
He smiles. The warm one again. The one that makes me melt into a useless puddle.
"I want." He steps closer to me, lifting his hand to cup the side of my neck. His thumb strokes beneath my jaw. A shiver chases goosebumps across my skin. "Do you need help getting undressed?"
I technically don't, but… I'd like him to help, so I nod just a little. He hums like that makes him happy, his eyes seeming to drink in my face for a moment before his hand slides down my chest and stomach. His other hand joins when he reaches the hem of my sweater. Electricity shoots through me, warmth pooling in my stomach. "Arms up, little one."
I raise them, trying not to feel stupidly happy that he finally called me that again. I thought maybe it was just a term I'd get to hear as his slave. Besides calling me little fish once when teasing me, he hasn’t called me anything but Casey since we’ve been at the safehouse. And sometimes I really hate being Casey.
“What’s that smile for?” he asks once my shirt is off.
Cheeks hot, I duck my head. Except that brings my attention to his hands working my jeans open. And that’s… a lot to watch. “You called me little one.”
He pauses, his fingers twitching slightly against my zipper. I can’t stop myself from looking at him. The intensity in his blue eyes when I meet them is enough to steal my breath. “You like that?” he asks, his voice husky and low. I swear I feel the words trickle down my spine.
“Y-yeah,” I admit, unable to look away despite how loudly my brain is telling me to. “And little fish. I – I like little fish, too.”
God, shut up, Casey! You’re so embarrassing.
He grins, bright and beaming, and the embarrassment fades.
“Good. Because that’s what you are. My little one.” He tugs the zipper down, my breath catching. “My little fish. Aren’t you?”
I can barely hear myself say, “Yes,” over my racing heart.
He hums, pleased, then returns to working on my pants. I’m not wearing any underwear, but he doesn’t react to that, just letting his thumb stroke my bare hip for a second before taking my elbow and turning my naked body toward the tub. “I’ll hold you steady while you climb in.”
It’s not necessary. I'm no longer bruised and broken and too weak to stand on my own. But I like it, and I think maybe he does too, so I don't argue. I just lean into his hold and step into the tub, smiling as he guides me until I'm sitting in the warm water. I want to ask him to join me, but I feel like there's a line we're straddling right now and I'm terrified that he'll pull away if I try to cross it. This is still good, though. I can definitely settle for this.
"How have you been?" Jake asks, sitting down and resting his elbow on the lip of the tub just like he used to, his head in his palm. "I feel like you sort of retreated the past few days."
I look away from him, my cheeks burning. "You're right. I was avoiding you. I'm - I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just - can you tell me why?"
Well, there's the fact that I've been sleeping on the floor because I'm afraid of my own bed. Or the fact that I've spent every morning trying to talk myself into going in the shower only to end up panicking. Or the fact that Ace let me use the computer to look up sepsis and I'm terrified that this off-kilter feeling I have is never going to go away. Or the fact that you asked me about Elliot, the sweetest little boy who I didn't even try to save, and now I'm sick with guilt and grief, praying you guys are able to find him.
Or - and here's the real kicker - there's the fact that I had a conversation with Carter about sex and he seems to think he’ll have no problem enjoying it, and between that and the comments the doctor made about nerve damage, I wanted to see if I could enjoy it too. Which means I tried getting hard, but the only way I could do it was by closing my eyes and picturing you touching me. So, I'm now mortified and also kind of turned on every time I see you. But don't worry, I didn't come thinking about you - I had a full-blown panic attack the minute I felt my orgasm coming and ended up throwing up instead. Which means I'm probably broken, but I'm too afraid to tell the doctor, and I'm definitely not going to tell you.
"I've just had a lot to think about." It's not a lie. Just nowhere near the full truth. "Plus, I've been busy with Carter."
