But that's where she's wrong. I owe her a hell of a lot. More than I can ever, ever give her. So much more than I wish she had to know. I take a deep breath, noticing as I do that my neck and shoulders feel more relaxed than they have in probably years. Woman's good with her hands. I remember that much, too.
I look down at my chest. It's bare because the towels fell into my lap when I scooted back. It's bare and I can see the scars. For just that moment, I wish I could turn back time and be the old Cross Carlson. The one I was last year, before I found out about the woman my father sold as a sex slave. When I was wrapped up in my carefree world of bikes, women, and parties. I wonder what Merri would think about that guy.
I look up at her, and I really want to tell her who I am. It's not right to lie to her—not after everything she's done for me. But if I tell her now, she might not travel to the border with me. I think she would. No one in their right mind would stay here to face the cartel, but I don't actually know. What if she ran off or something?
Maybe I'll give it a little while longer—just another day—for her to get to know me more. To trust me more.
I'll tell her tomorrow, when we finally reach the border and I hand over her passport. Maybe even before.
Merri
EVAN IS LOOKING at me funny, and suddenly I feel self-conscious. I've been in this shower for the better part of a day, and I know I must look like dog poo on a stick. I bite my lip, remembering that I'm not even wearing a bra or panties. When I changed into this nightgown, it was only to get out of the disgusting clothes I'd been wearing since I left the clinic. Evan was in the shower, quiet between spells of pain, and I ran into my room and just stripped everything off. I don't even think I remembered to hang my underwear and bra so they'd be dry when I needed them next. Which would be now.
I put a hand up to my face and try to pretend I'm wearing something snazzy. Maybe a business suit, the kind I used to wear when I pitched stories in person.
Evan's eyes are stuck to me like glue, and it's weird to feel so embarrassed. We've been here in this shower together for a long time. I feel like I know him. For sure I care about him. And maybe it's just sad, because all the sweet, intimate things he said to me when he was half out of it...they made me feel good. Not just good as in useful, because I've been useful at the clinic. But good in another way. A way I really shouldn’t want.
My eyes wander over the scars on his chest, and I want to ask about them. I want to ask how old he is and where he’s from. Obviously we haven’t had time to get to know each other...
I push away that urge and stand carefully, so he can't see under my gown. I hold up a finger—be right back—and go into the bathroom, where I grab two fluffy black robes and slide one of them on. I walk back into the shower, where I find Evan standing. One of the towels from the shower is wrapped around his waist. It's wet, so it hangs off his hips. I can see the little indention hot guys have in that area, the spot on their hips where I've always thought a woman's hands should grip. I can see how flat his belly is. Flat but rippled with muscle. Dusted with a soft trail of dark hair. I've seen his body before—all of it, in fact—but it was different when he was delirious with pain.
Now he's standing right in front of me, with his hair tousled and that five o'clock shadow thing going, I want to walk over and wrap my arms around his shoulders. My sleeping beau is awake, and I just want to hug him again, like I did when he was sleeping.
Geez, I don’t even know this guy. I must be a lot lonelier than I thought.
I put on a smile and try not to let my eyes cling to his body. “You're up. How do you feel?”
Cross
I FEEL LIKE I just got off a bender. I rub my palm over my hair—which is sticking up in every direction—and I avoid her eyes as I say, “Alright.”
I can't seem to look at her at the moment, so I look at the robe she's holding. It matches the black one that drags the shiny floor. She blinks and holds it out. “For you.”