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He fills the tub once more with warm, soapy water before soaking a fluffy blue loofah - all with my head still on his shoulder. If he wanted it off, he’d move me or say something. That’s how this works, right? If he’s in charge, if he’s taking care of me, then I can do whatever feels right, whatever feels good, and he’ll take care of the rest.
What a fucking delightful arrangement. How do I get this full time?
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to my forehead and hair as he runs the loofah over my body. His scent fills my nose as he works his way across my collarbone, knuckles brushing against the hollow of my throat. I close my eyes and let myself enjoy it, trusting him completely. “So, so well. Let’s rinse you now.”
I keep my eyes closed, head on his shoulder, as he pours water over my sudsy skin. He must be soaked by now, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, when he makes me sit up so he can work shampoo through my hair with both hands, his eyes are bright, his lips pulled into a broad smile.
“Eyes closed again, little one.” I do as told, letting him tilt my chin with his fingers until my head has fallen back. I get déjà vu from the first time he bathed me, his hands working miracles until I was brought nearly to tears from his gentle kindness. My mind had been spinning. I was sure that it was some sick game he was playing. But it wasn’t a game then, and it isn’t one now. This is just… Jake.
“What are you smiling about?” he asks, sounding amused as he starts working fingers through my messy hair.
I think I might love you.
The thought startles me. I quickly force it away. Not tonight. I'm just existing tonight. There's no room for any revelations. Especially ones that could change everything. Ruin everything.
“Just feels nice," I tell him, trying to keep my mind empty. It helps when he starts massaging my scalp, my body sagging in pleasure. I find myself admitting one more thing. Something I probably shouldn't. “Thinking about how lucky I am.”
“Lucky, huh?” His thumbs rub my temples and I moan. His movements stutter to a stop, his breath hitching, but then he clears his throat and returns to work. “Why would you say you’re lucky? It hasn’t been a very easy few months for you.”
“True, but…” I open my eyes, willing to risk getting soap in them. He’s close. Close enough to feel his breath on my face. To see that he has white in the blue of his eyes. “But now I have you.”
His breath hitches again, his eyes turning from soft to intense in a split second. “You certainly do, little one. You have me for as long as you want me.”
“Good,” I whisper, closing my eyes again before I do something stupid like kiss him. “Forever then. Hope you don't mind."
It's half-teasing, but the other half… well, the other half is fragile hope. Wishful thinking.
“Alright,” he says, his voice sounding tight. “Forever works for me.”
The words feel dangerous. Like a promise he shouldn't be allowed to make. Because Jake keeps his promises, and this one feels too big for him to keep. Did he feel like he had to say that? Was he worried he'd hurt my feelings?
As he rinses my hair and helps me out of the tub, my mind spins with worry. I barely even register him wrapping me up in a towel and guiding me into his room. It isn't until his hands cup my face and he says, "Casey, come back to me," that I manage to crawl my way out of my own head. I blink at him, disoriented as I take in the fact that he has me seated on the edge of his mattress while he squats down to be at eye level with me.
"S-sorry. I - what?"
"I lost you for a few minutes there." He wipes away a stray drop of water falling down my temple from a piece of wet hair. "You okay?"
"No, Jake," I admit, my voice trembling with so much emotion I worry I might choke on it all. "I'm not."
He releases a breath and nods. "It's okay. You'll be okay soon."
"What if I'm not, though? What if this never gets better? I can't - I can't live like this."
Jake drops his hands and stands up. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying - I just don't-" I bring my hands to my face, not caring that my towel falls off my shoulders to pool around my waist. "I don't know if I want to do this anymore…"
There's an eerie silence after the confession, followed by the feel of the mattress dipping beside me. I don't have time to look at him before his big arms are wrapping around me, pulling my body onto his lap and tucking me against his chest. I press my face to his throat and breathe him in, hating how good it feels to be here again.
"You want to kill yourself," he rasps, not a question, but an understanding.
"Not… yet," I whisper. "Right now, I’m still hoping this… feeling goes away. But if it doesn’t, I just don’t know if I can live my life with it. I’m too fucking young to live my whole life feeling like - like this.”
“Feeling like what, little one?”
“Like I’m broken.” I fight the urge to cry, knowing once I start that I won't be able to continue talking. “And like I’m never going to get better.”
His arms tighten around me. "That'll go away. That feeling is normal, but it goes away, Casey."
