I rub my eyes. “Just giving you your privacy,” I mutter and make to escape again.
“Why?”
I hesitate, shifting on my feet.
Because…
You didn’t ask me to come in. I don’t want to intrude.
Because I know what this is.
And I’m not her.
He stares at me through the mirror as he turns on the water and fills up a glass.
Without letting myself think, I walk over and press my forehead to his back, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around his waist.
He stills, letting me.
I don’t know why I do it, but the feel of him—of someone warm and strong—in my arms makes this weird feeling swell in my chest, and I lay my cheek against his spine, hearing his heart beat.
It feels good to feel this. To be touched. To ask for what I need even if he wants me to leave. Just for a minute.
Finally, I sigh and pull away, but he catches my arms around his stomach before I escape and tugs me back into place.
“Stay.”
My chin trembles, my heart races, and tears fill my eyes.
I dip my head back into his back and try not to cry.
He’s not my parents.
He’s not my parents.
He wants me around.
It’s okay.
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. It’s okay.
He stands there silently, thankfully not asking any fucking questions about why I’m almost crying again as I hug him. He just holds my arms in front of him, hanging onto me in a way.
“Are you thinking about her?” I ask.
But he remains silent as he dumps out his water and sets the glass down.
“It’s okay if you are.”
“I’ve never really talked about her,” he says in almost a whisper, “to anyone but you.”
I snake my hand back around his waist, breathing in the smell of his skin. “What did she do that you liked?” I say.
He inhales a deep breath and takes my hand, leading me over to the shower.
“Her hands in my hair,” he replies, turning on the shower.
He tests the water and then turns around, coming behind me and pulling out my rubber band, so he can tie my hair up higher into a bun on the top of my head.