Tempted Heir (The Heirs 7)

Aunt Leigh is busy helping Dash stand up. Just seeing Dash move knocks the air from my lungs.

“Hey,” I say, making sure to keep my voice low. “You’re up.”

“Dash is being stubborn,” Aunt Leigh says. “She insists on taking a shower.”

“I won’t be long. I just really need to shower,” Dash says. “Please.”

“Can I help?” I ask as I move forward.

Dash reaches a hand out to me, and it has me darting to her side.

“You should rather take a bath,” Aunt Leigh says just as I take hold of Dash’s arm.

I feel Dash tense, and she begins to shake her head. “No. Please. No.”

Hearing the panic rising in her voice, I say, “It’s okay. You can shower.”

“Can we place a chair in the shower?” Aunt Leigh asks.

Dash nods. “Please.”

Aunt Leigh’s eyes lock on mine. “Will you stay with her? Make sure her back doesn’t get too wet.”

“Okay.” Leaning a little down, I catch Dash’s eyes. “Are you okay with me helping you?”

She hesitates, and then Miss Sebastian comes into the room. Dash begins to move toward her. “Mamma G, will you help me shower?”

“Of course, my godbaby,” Miss Sebastian moves closer, taking hold of Dash.

I’m not worried that she doesn’t want me there while she’s showering. Feeling thankful for every step forward, I smile at Aunt Leigh. “Another win.”

She comes to wrap her arms around me, and I hug her back. Then she whispers, “Another win.”

DASH

Miss Sebastian places a chair in the shower and turns on the faucets. When she’s happy with the temperature, she turns to me.

“Do you need help, my godbaby?”

I shake my head as I step closer to the water.

Miss Sebastian sits down on the closed toilet lid, then says, “I’ll watch an episode of Shadowhunters while you shower. That Magnus Bane is just too delicious for words.”

The corner of my mouth tugs up. This is why I wanted her to be here and not my mom or Christopher. They’d hover around me, and I understand why, but I can’t deal with it right now.

I move slowly as I take off the bathrobe, and after slipping it over the IV cord and bag, I step into the shower.

Miss Sebastian hangs the bag back on the stand and checks it before she sits down again.

Gingerly, I take a seat, and then I turn my face up to the water. I let it spray over me until my face and back throb with pain. The ache spreads down my body, relentless and raw.

I know Mom said not to get my back wet, but I need this.

I need this.

I begin to wash my body as best I can, but my movements are sluggish as if all my strength has been drained from me. It feels like my insides have been replaced with the harrowing nightmare which will haunt me for the rest of my life.

There’s no escaping the memories. They’re etched deep into every part of me.

The bruises sting and ache so much that my body starts to quiver.

A sob breaks through my feeble barrier, and I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my hand to muffle the sound. Gulping in deep breaths, I fight for control over my chaotic emotions.

How do you survive this kind of devastation? Do you ever heal from it?

Right now, the pain is a sickening reminder of what happened to me, but even once it’s faded, I’ll still feel degraded.

It feels as if Josh killed the happy woman whose dreams were coming true. He stole that from me.

Once I’ve washed my whole body, every bruise is pulsing with pain and burning as if I’m on fire.

I get up and turn off the water. Miss Sebastian holds a towel out to me, and I quickly wrap it around my body.

Our eyes lock, and then she moves forward, pulling me into a tender hug. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m here if you need to talk. Okay? You can tell me anything. I’ll just listen.”

Nodding, I murmur, “It feels as if I’m still stuck in the cabin.”

Pulling back slightly, she asks, “But you know you’re safe, right?”

I nod again. “It’s just hard,” I try to explain.

“I know, my godbaby. I know,” she coos.

My body begins to tremble, and closing my eyes, I can’t keep the tears from flowing. Lifting my arms, I wrap them around my godmother while I rest my cheek against her shoulder.

She’s careful where she touches me, wrapping an arm low around my back as she presses her other hand to the side of my head. “I’m here. Your Mamma G is here.”

I drink in all the comfort she offers until I feel calmer.

Pulling back, Mamma G helps me put on a clean bathrobe, and it has me asking, “Are any of my clothes here?”

She nods. “Yeah, but let's hold off on those for a couple of days. Okay? Just until your wounds have healed a little more.”