Last night had proven that true, but not in the mystical, magical way I’d imaged. No, that had been dark, made me again question my capacity to be a part of Sorin’s world.
He led us into a huge bathroom, and let my hands go long enough to turn the water on full blast.
He undressed quickly and I watched the ink that marked his skin as it danced with his motion. And then he came toward me, proceeded to pull the work shirt off me, followed by my heavy work pants. And then he turned and led me into the shower, his broad back as decorated as his chest had been.
I didn’t understand this, what was happening, my words had left me, so I stood.
He touched me gingerly, used his warm, strong hands to wet every inch of my skin.
I met his eyes, his hair water-darkened, his lashes weighted by droplets, his eyes completely unreadable.
And then I was pressed against his chest, his arms tight around my shoulders, soft stomach against his hard abs, lean thighs against mine.
And he said nothing, just held me until the water turned cold.
Eighteen
Sorin
“You can wear this until you get home,” I said as I handed her some of my workout clothes.
She nodded and sat up, the covers falling away from her breasts. She quickly moved to tuck the sheet under her arms, and in that moment I knew I had lost her.
She hadn’t looked at me, not that I could blame her, but her covering herself was more telling than almost anything else. Never, not ever, had Esther been shy. Her lifting the covers, the haunted look in her eyes, told me all that I needed to know.
How many times had I imagined it, bringing Esther here, watching her surprise when she saw the place and then critiqued it, imagined letting her into my life.
I cursed Petey, Natasha, but most of all I cursed myself. I had known this would happen, and if it hadn’t been them, it would have been someone else. I’d thought I could handle it, had counseled my brother once that he could do the same, but seeing her in danger, knowing how close she had been to her end, had changed everything.
I couldn’t take it, couldn’t risk it. I would rather cut out my own heart instead.
“Are you ready?”
The words came out harsh, uncaring, and I saw her frown. She smoothed it away quickly, and then nodded. Less than ten minutes later, we were off.
It took everything I had inside me to keep from touching her again. But I didn’t, deciding that I needed to practice staying away, so I watched her from the corner of my eye, trying to memorize every contour of her face, every emotion that crossed, thinking it would have to see me through my days.
She stepped out of the car and walked toward her door on overly large flip-flops.
She looked at me questioningly when she stopped in front of the solid steel door I had had installed this morning while she slept.
I handed her the key. “This should keep anyone out. And I’ll have someone watching the house,” I said as she unlocked it.
“That’s not necessary,” she said, her hand on the knob.
“Can you say that after yesterday, Esther?”
She blanched, whether at the harshness of my words or the truth of them I couldn’t tell. But as she always did, my beautiful, brazen Esther bounced back, squared her shoulders and then stepped across the threshold. She looked back at me again, face expectant. I shook my head. “I won’t be coming in.”
I couldn’t, couldn’t risk not being able to leave.
“Ever?” she asked, the word quiet.
“Ever,” I said with a certainty I didn’t feel. I saw her hand flex and tighten on the knob, and then she met my eyes. My heart soared, excited at the prospect of her protesting, while my brain screamed that she shouldn’t, begged her not to test my weak resolve.
“Good-bye, Sorin,” she said.
She closed the door.
* * *
Esther
After I closed the new door, I leaned against it, the sturdy steel, the reinforced doorjamb, seeming like something that belonged in another world, and not my grandmother’s house.
The door was strong, secure, and an unbearably painful reminder. Shut me away from my life as I had known it completely. Shut me away from Sorin completely.
And so I was left, not the Esther I had been before him, not the one that I had allowed myself to hope I might be with him.
No, I was something else, and I hadn’t yet figured out what.
I glanced at the clock that faced the front door. It was the same one that had hung there for decades, each hour a different bird species. I still wasn’t sure why we even had it. My grandmother hadn’t liked birds. My brother and I hadn’t either. But looking at it gave me some measure of comfort. Minor, but I’d take what I could get.
And that stupid clock told me that I still had forty-five minutes before my shift.