It spurts to the wall and decorates my skin in long ropes.
When his body goes slack, I stand and he draws me into him. Being in his arms almost feels suspiciously easy, like the world is clicking into place.
Later the shower turns playful.
Flicking each other with water.
He pinches and slaps my ass.
Swings his half-hard dick against my body.
His mouth brushes against mine—quick, soft, familiar now in a way that feels dangerous.
Too easy.
Too natural.
Steam curling around us as he pulls me back under the water when I try to step away, laughter echoing against the tiles before I can stop.
“You’re wasting water,” I say.
“You’re trying to leave,” he counters.
“I have a life.”
“Yet you’re here… with me.”
I can’t argue that point so I echo, “And you’re here with me.”
By the time we’re dressed, reality starts creeping back in. I reach for my phone just as it vibrates.
Unknown number.
My stomach drops and everything in me stills. I try not to react but of course, Parker notices.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I answer sharply.
The phone continues to buzz in my hand. I stare at it. Do I answer it? If I answer, I lose control. If I don’t, I fear the unknown.
It stops. I swallow, setting the phone down on top of my purse. “No voicemail,” I mumble under my breath, somewhat relieved yet terrified. “Must not have been important.”
But do I believe my own words? No.
Parker’s watching me. I can see the gears in his brain turning, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t question.
The quiet stretches for the first time since I walked into his house, the hush of his house doesn’t quite feel safe anymore. Like someone knows where I am and who I am with.
TWENTY-ONE
PARKER
She didn’t tell me everything.
I know I told her she didn’t have to. I meant it when I said she could tell me what happened in pieces and parts, in whatever order made it possible for her to keep breathing while she did it.
After my standard appointment with the team physical therapist, I’m sitting in my car outside the Armadillo facility, engine off, staring through the windshield at nothing even though there’s a sea of concrete and metal in front of me. All I can think about is the look on her face when she said, “That’s when Annika died.”