With towels wrapped around us, dampness clinging to our skin, and a mix of tension and newfound love ping-ponging between us, Luke and I exit the bathroom.
“The guys brought you some clothes,” he offers, indicating the bag on the bed.
“Oh good. I need to wash my clothes, and we should get dressed.” I glance up at him. “In case we’re attacked.” It’s a true statement, one supported by our training—readiness trumps conversation—but the look on his face says he’s not buying it.
He knows it’s about how naked and vulnerable I feel right now, in every possible way, I see that in his all-too-knowing blue eyes, but he doesn’t fight me on the delay, either.
“I’ll throw our clothes in the wash.” He walks into the bathroom, scoops them all up, and reappears before exiting the room all together.
I stare after him, this nagging, clawing sensation inside me, acid burning in my belly that has nothing to do with Luke right now. He’s giving me space, and it’s one of those moments where I’m reminded that yes, Luke pushes me, and in all kinds of ways, but he pays attention too, he reads my limits. He doesn’t even make me push back. He just seems to know when to allow me a moment to breathe.
Like now.
Of course, maybe he too hesitates to lose all that we were in that shower tonight, in trade for a more combative version of the us we have become. I actually hope there is truth in that assessment, as it means he does love me, he does want to hold onto me. Not that I really doubt that he does, but sometimes, as we’ve both said at one point or another, since Kasey died, love is not enough.
I grab the bag, focused on one thing. Not being naked emotionally and physically with Luke. I can’t fix the emotional part but I can fix the physical part. I dress quickly and hurry into the bathroom to dry my hair. My mind is blank. It’s a survival thing, something my stepfather taught me, something I used a little too well sometimes. It’s how I survived what happened to Darius tonight. It’s how I watched a teenage boy die in my arms one cold night in December when he got in the line of fire of a gang shooting on his bicycle. I find a place to store the poison pill of the moment and deal with it at the right time, in the right place.
We both have to be alive for his words to matter, I remind myself yet again.
He’s so right. I want us both to live. I don’t want anyone else to die, so whatever it is I resist, whatever the discomfort to me, does not matter.
I walk to the door and step into the room. Luke is sitting on the bed, looking every bit the delicious specimen of a man who always manages to get me wet and wanting by just existing. He’s dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, the cotton of the tee stretched to the limit, his muscles bulging beneath.
Damp strands of longish blond hair tease his brow, accenting the chiseled line of his jaw, while his blue eyes are probing as they watch me.
“What do you know that I don’t know, Ana?”
I hug myself. “Nothing.” And yet, I was in that bathroom, avoiding this conversation, he’s thinking. And so am I. “Nothing,” I say again, but I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or me.
“Ana—”
“I don’t know, Luke,” I say, pressing my hand to my forehead. “And I don’t think I want to know.”
He pushes to his feet, this powerful figure that has always made me feel like he was strong as steel, and I am strong without him and stronger with him by my side. And despite the uncertainty between us, I am stronger with him here right now. He steps in front of me, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Your head is where mine’s at, too.”
“No, my head is not anywhere outside of that shower with you, Luke. Other than that, I’m doing that blackout thing Kurt taught me to do. Because you know it’s an easy crutch to use outside combat when you want to avoid something.”
“Yes,” he agrees solemnly. “Yes, it is, but we both know we can’t do that right now. People—”
“Are dead,” I say. “I know. I do.” I wet my lips. “Very few people would be comfortable standing against us at my father’s place.”
“Agreed.” His expression tightens. “It’s almost as if these people know the place as well as you, Kasey, or Kurt. Ana, don’t you think the way Kurt handled his will was strange?”
An explosion of emotions overcomes me and I twist out of his arms, giving him my back and placing distance between us. I whirl around to face him. “Do not go where you’re going right now,” I bite out. “Do not. I inherit when I come of age.”