Enough of the game, Zara. Time to finish him. Finish this.
Chapter 22
Noah
“Zara, are you okay? What’s wrong?” I feverishly rub her arms, trying to put some warmth back into her body. She’s freezing. She looks up at me, her lips turning a scary shade of blue, and cracks a small smile. “You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong. Did someone hurt you? Dillon? I’ll kill him.”
Pushing her body away from mine and out of my arms, I search her up and down for cuts, scrapes, anything to give me a clue what happened to her. Watching her, seeing her like this, brings back a sense of déjà vu I wish it wouldn’t. It wasn’t long ago that one of my students showed up at my office in nearly the same condition.
Karly.
It’s pretty close to the anniversary of her death. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. But with Zara, I can try harder. I can make her listen.
Pulling her to me, I lift her with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, and carry her to the bathroom. I sit her on the closed toilet seat and start the shower. Warmth. She needs to get warm.
While the temperature reaches my desired degree, I step back to Zara, kneel in front of her, and begin to unlace her black combat boots one by one. I have to wrestle the shoes from her feet, then peel the socks away. After I stand, I pull her to my level, unbuttoning her jeans and shimmying them down her slender, goose-bumped legs.
“Noah, stop,” she whispers, trying to back away, but butting against the toilet. She tries to move in the other direction, only to be trapped by the vanity.
“Zara. Listen to me and listen good. You’re freezing. I have to warm you up. This is not some ploy to get you out of your pants. Let me take care of you, please.”
Casting her eyes down, Zara steps out of her jeans and raises her arms. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, I lift it over her head. Since there’s no use worrying about getting her bra and panties wet, as they’re already sopping, I gently lift her again, depositing her inside the shower, letting the warm spray splash over her body.
While she showers, I grab a towel from the linen closet and something for her to put on after she’s dry. Back in the bathroom, I peek inside the curtain to find Zara hasn’t moved a single inch since I put her inside. Trying to keep my emotions in check, I turn the water off now that her lips are a luscious pink again. Putting the towel around her body, I hike my hands up the outsides of her legs, grab the thin, silky strap of her panties, and pull them down her legs, keeping her covered. With a little more effort and creativeness, I do the same with her bra, then help her over the edge of the tub.
“I’ve got some dry clothes for you to put on. Do you wanna get dressed in here or in my bedroom?”
She shrugs, giving me the impression that the shower might have warmed her body’s temperature, but it didn’t make a dent anywhere else. Walking her to my bedroom, I set the clothes I pulled out for her on the bed next to where she finds a place to rest.
“I’m going to make us some tea. Get dressed. I’ll be back in a second.”
I didn’t handle this type of situation right the first time. I let Karly down. I let her unborn baby down. I don’t know if I could have done more, but I didn’t try.
I allowed her to leave my classroom when she was visibly upset and shut inside of her own head. I don’t know if anything I could have done would have changed the outcome, but I have this feeling that I can help Zara, whatever the problem is.
With a mug full of hot tea, I’m back in the bedroom in five minutes to find Zara sitting in the same place, wearing only the T-shirt I pulled out for her, the sweatpants unfolded and lying in a heap on the floor next to the wet towel. When I enter, she glances up at me, so many emotions written on her face.
“They didn’t fit me,” she says.
“It’s okay. Here, drink this.” I pass her the mug, which she accepts with two hands. Blowing the surface, she cautiously sips at her tea.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Just tell me what’s wrong. Let me in, Zara. Let me help.”
“You can’t help. Nobody can help.” She stares wistfully into the depth of her mug.
I place my finger lightly under her chin and raise her head so our eyes meet. “Let me in,” I whisper.
“I miss her.”
“Who?”
“My cousin. I miss her. Every day. It hurts to think about her, but I can’t seem to stop. She was my best friend and I miss her so damn much.” Tears prick her lower lids, threatening to spill over the brim.
I’ve never considered all the things she left behind when she moved to Illinois. All my family is from here and I’ve never been more than an hour or two away from all the ones that I love. Here she is, five hours away from everything she knew…except for her boyfriend, who’s a shit excuse for a boyfriend, let alone a man.
“It’s almost Thanksgiving. You can go home to visit your family soon. It’s normal to be homesick, especially during the first semester. It gets easier.” I try to pull her to me for a hug, but she withdraws from my touch, looking at her arm where I touched her like I’d set a lit match to her exposed skin.