I give up.
I fucking give up.
“You win,” I mutter at the man who is dead and killed my spirit. “You hear me!” I roar at the high heavens. Oh, no, wrong direction. I need to be speaking to hell. I curl in on myself and pathetically give into the worthlessness I feel. “You win,” I whisper, accepting defeat.
“Heather?” Heaven’s silky voice soothes through the door and he knocks. “You okay?”
No.
But I don’t want him to know that.
“Move back, Jolie. I’m going to break down the door.”
“What? No, you can’t—”
It’s too late.
The door crashes in and the curtain blocks the pieces of wood flying so they can’t harm me. The metal of the hooks slide against the shower rod and the water shuts off, then there is a towel laid over me before arms swoop under and lift me from the floor.
“You’re bleeding,” Heaven notices as he carries me to the bedroom. “You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m fine. I slipped. It isn’t a big deal,” I say. I’m mortified that he saw me like this. When we were younger, I imagined us naked a hundred times, but now? The last thing I want him to do is see me. I’m not strong and defiant anymore. I’m not the woman that caught his eye.
I wasn’t blind. I knew he wanted m
e because Asher always wanted everyone.
Now I’m a burden.
“It is a big deal. I’ll get Owen in here to look at the wound to see if you need stitches. He sets me on the bed, my back still wet and soaking the comforter. I scurry away from him and cover myself with the blanket so he can no longer see me.
Plus, being around him makes me nervous and I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. I feel both when it come to Asher. Men make me nervous. I know not all men are bad now, but right now, I don’t have the ability to decipher if they won’t hurt me.
“I’m not ever going to hurt you, Heather. Never. I know we have rough history and that’s another conversation for another time, but I’d never hurt you.” His eyes are frowned at the sides, almost as if the thought of me being afraid of him brings him agony. “God, I’d never,” he whispers.
I don’t say anything because there is more than one way to hurt someone. If there is one thing I know about Asher, I’d be left with a broken heart wanting more from him just like every other woman in his life that he leaves brokenhearted in a bed.
I’m not ready for that.
I shiver when the air kicks on and the water drips down my arms, reminding me that I’m soaking wet.
“You’re frozen. I’ll turn on the heat in your room.”
I figured he would walk out the door and into the hallway where most of the thermostats are for people in their houses. I shouldn’t be surprised that he stops at a white box on the wall near the bathroom and with a touch of a screen, the air stops blowing and it is replaced by warmth. I sigh when it warms my skin. I need to get up and get dressed, but my head is swimming and the effort it will take to get up is too much for me to handle right now.
“Is that better, baby?” Heaven asks, calling me a sweet pet name, but I choose to ignore it. He’s probably being nice.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and nod, not looking up to see his eyes pitying me.
“Crap, you’re really bleeding,” Heaven says, rushing over from the bathroom with a towel in his hand. He rubs the soft fabric against my arm, and I notice a streak of red smearing on my arm has he wipes me clean, then presses it against my head. “Don’t be nervous. Head wounds bleed more even if the injury isn’t severe.”
I want to ask how he knows that, but I don’t want him to think I’m attacking him with guilt because of what happened to my sister. The only person who truly knows anything is Grace and the man that killed her. Asher only saw the aftermath.
“I’m not afraid,” I say, numbly. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of these days, but bleeding to death isn’t one of them.”
“You should always be afraid of death,” he states, his voice sad at my declaration.
“Why? Living is so much harder.”