knew he needed to distance himself. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Dry your eyes.”
She was clinging to his cut. He reached up with both hands, and gently pulled her hands away.
She looked up at him with big eyes swimming with crocodile tears.
He got up, and busied himself by putting the chair back by the desk. Anything not to have to look into those eyes. She seemed so fragile. “Look, there are towels in the bathroom. Take a hot shower. You’ll feel better. And anything else you need, look through the cabinet. I think there’s a pack of new toothbrushes. A comb. Help yourself.”
He turned to leave.
She swiped at her eyes. “Where are you going?” she whispered.
He stopped, and looked back. “I’m gonna go get you some food. I’ll be back in a little while. Okay?”
She nodded.
He turned to leave once again.
“Cole.” She stopped him again.
“Yeah?” He paused in the doorway, but didn’t look at her.
“Why did you do what you did up there? Helping me, I mean?” she asked softly.
He turned then, and his gaze found hers.
They locked eyes.
In spite of everything that had happened to her, her innocence still showed through. He’d been with lots of women over the years, and never in all that time had he ever let any of ‘em get to him. Not once. Why now? Why this one? He didn’t have a clue what it was about this girl. He only knew there was something about her that pulled something from down deep inside him. Something he thought he’d buried long ago, buried under years of callousness and brutality. Buried under the thick skin he’d grown out of necessity. He had to push her away. He couldn’t let her know she had an affect on him.
He shrugged, “Because I don’t believe women should be treated the way he was treating you. Don’t go reading anymore into it than that, babe.”
He walked out, and she heard him lock the bolt.
Angel stood up, and walked into the bathroom. There was a shower stall with an old, plastic shower curtain, yellowed from age. She pulled it back, and looked inside. It was surprisingly clean. There was a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo.
She turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature. Soon the steam was rising. Peeling her clothes off, she stepped inside. Cole was right. The hot water felt so good, the warmth soothing her aching body. The cuts on her wrists stung when the soap got on them, and she was reminded what happened with each bruised area she touched with the bar of soap.
She stood with the hot water pouring over her, and the tears began to fall again. She let it all out, until finally there weren’t any tears left. Then she took a deep breath, picked up the shampoo bottle, poured some in her palm, and washed her hair, vowing that would be the last time she’d let herself break down.
Finally, when the hot water started to run out, she turned it off, and stepped out. She wrapped a towel around her, and took another one to dry her hair. Stepping out of the bathroom, she ran the second towel over her hair, squeezing out the excess.
She stopped short.
Cole was stretched out on the bed propped against the headboard. He looked lost in thought until he turned, and looked at her.
Had he heard her crying again, she wondered.
His eyes ran over her. “I brought food.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Cole sat up, and reached for the white bags of fast food. “The all American meal. Burgers and fries.”
“Smells great. I’m starved.”
He got up, and walked over to the dresser. Opening a drawer, he pulled out an old tee shirt, and held it out to her. “Here.”
She reached out, and took it, and went back into the bathroom to get dressed.
When she came back out, he had turned the desk chair around to face the bed, and was eating a burger. She sat on the bed, and pulled a burger out of the bag.
They ate quietly.
He finished, crumpled up his wrapper, and tossed it on the nightstand. Then he leaned back in the swivel chair, and sat watching her eat. “There’s another one in the bag, if you’re still hungry.”
She shook her head.
He sat staring at her.
“Now what happens?” she finally got the courage to ask.
He shook his head, and looked away. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and looked at the floor. “You should call home.”