Dahlia Aldridge
As I entered the white tiled bathroom, sunlight peeking through the large window that faced Stratton’s house, I didn’t bother locking the door, deciding instead to just close it. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? A sexier-than-sin man showing up and taking a shower with me? That sounded the opposite of horrible. All three of the men in my bedroom were more than welcome to join me any time they wanted.
I tilted my head briefly, wondering where Kingston, Stratton, and Dermot were. I suppose it was possible they went home, but somehow I didn’t think that was the case. In fact, it was more likely that King was still up working on this situation however he saw fit, and as for the other two, the first was no doubt very worked up and the second was probably helping King like last night. The twins and Yates weren’t exactly relaxed by any definition of the word, but Stratton was a chronic overthinker, King was extremely intense, and I was finding that Dermot was very determined when he wanted to be.
Especially when it came to easily and flawlessly working his way into my heart. I had no idea how the man had done it, but something about his personality just clicked with mine. I felt like I had known him for years, and I was already fostering a sense of trust with him that should have taken years to form.
It made no sense, yet it was undeniably true.
Letting out a tired sigh, I stripped out of my sleep shirt and turned on the shower. A shiver ran over my skin as I watched the water begin to steam up the massive glass box, memories of my panic attack yesterday playing through my head.
No. I was not going to let that ruin my shower. I loved showers, especially burning hot ones, and now that King had taken one with me, even if briefly, I wanted that memory to cancel out the panic attack one. I felt like that was fair.
Letting out a soft, relieved groan, I stepped underneath the heavy shower stream, letting it massage the tension from my frame. Holy moly. Talk about a much needed moment of relaxation. I ran my fingers over my face, letting my neck hang down and stretch the tension out of my upper back and neck while water pounded down.
Today was a new day.Normally a positive phrase, but somehow I knew it wasn’t that easy. It was a new day, but it was a different type of day than ever before.
Attempting to gather myself, I considered all of the questions I needed to ask and the possible answers I may receive. I tried to imagine the conversation I was going to have to have with my parents when they called and how I would need to be firm with them, because I had no doubt that they would want to come back almost immediately in order to be here for me. Something that, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want. Not that I didn’t want their support or to see them, but if my guys were right and there was a larger issue going on with the Brooks family, then I wanted to try to handle it. My parents had done so much for me in my life; I wasn’t about to bring them into this nonsense unless it was absolutely necessary.
I just hoped that we wouldn’t end up in over our heads.
I let out a slow, calming breath. We could handle this… Right? I mean, I was aware now more than ever that my boys had their shadows. Shadows that I was finding I loved… but the concept of the FBI? A drug ring? An escaped drug convict? It seemed almost unreal that we would be part of something like that. Or maybe I had been living in a box for too long, because my boys hadn’t seemed nearly as surprised.
Speaking of boxes, maybe I could get down to the office after this and look through some of them. I just needed to pull myself out of this dazed state, which I could only partially blame on my lack of coffee. I’d been on such an emotional high over the past few days, and then my panic attack had hit, and hit hard. The low that followed the exhilaration and adrenaline that came with extreme emotions always resulted in this numbness. This mental distance that I know my brain provided for me to heal myself.
Too bad I couldn’t afford that right now. Unlike when Sterling had found me in the school bathroom crying over the messages I’d been receiving, I didn’t have a week to phase out. I didn’t even have an hour. There were too many aspects we needed to consider.
Most importantly, my guys needed me, and I needed them. I didn’t want to say I couldn’t afford to be ‘weak,’ but that was really how it felt. In the face of learning about all of this, I didn’t want to be viewed as a liability, and right now I feared that’s what I was. My emotions were less controlled and my reactions raw. I found myself wanting to overreact, underreact, and not react at all to the things going on around me. If my boys had to worry about that, we wouldn’t be able to focus on the situation at hand.
It didn’t help that lately I felt like I’d been relying on them so heavily. I knew I had told Stratton that it wasn’t a bad thing to rely on those that you love and those that loved you. And I should have told my boys what was going on, but now that they knew? I wanted to prove that I was more than that. I had strength in me, and while I knew they would never want me to feel like I had to prove anything, it didn’t change the fact that I wanted to.
Attempting to distract myself, I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted it into my hand. The smell of mint filled the steamy space as I began to scrub my messy tangle of dark hair. It was still stiff from yesterday when I had let it dry without brushing it, and as I closed my eyes, I felt them sting a bit, still a bit dry from all the crying I’d done. It felt good, the water, almost therapeutic, and when I was done I made sure to condition and wash every part of me. Cleansing. The process of showering after a panic attack felt cleansing.
I wanted to erase yesterday. Okay… not all of yesterday. I wouldn’t mind reliving the part where Dermot and I were in bed.
A nervous tightening filled my stomach. How would things be between us today? Weird? Normal? Letting out a small, frustrated sound, I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a comfortable robe.
Walking towards the large mirror that bounced light through the room from where it hung over the vanity, I examined just how exhausted I appeared. Lovely.
Leaning over the vanity, I traced the dark circles under my eyes with shaky fingers, wondering if I was imagining the slight dullness in my gaze. Maybe it was a good day to wear some makeup; I was looking a bit rough. I brushed my teeth while I weighed if it would actually make me feel better or not.
I had absolutely no idea who assumed or made up the rumor that women wore makeup for men. Maybe that was the case for some women, but for me? If I wore makeup, it was because I felt better in it that day. It took a lot more time and effort than most men would ever realize, and that alone was a solid reason to never wear it for them. I mean, if they noticed, great, but to spend hours painting your face for someone that probably wouldn’t appreciate it? No thank you.
Then again, maybe I was a bit spoiled, because my boys had been seeing me without makeup my entire life and had always told me they thought I was beautiful without it or with it…
AndI was still wondering how the heck I hadn’t caught onto their feelings.
Shaking my head, I began to brush out my dark hair and pulled it into a loose braid before applying some light concealer under my eyes and a bit of lip stain, noticing how pale I was looking. Afterwards I felt far better, and except for my throat being sore from throwing up yesterday, I felt considerably more myself.
Adjusting my robe, I muttered a curse under my breath, realizing I hadn’t brought my clothes in here with me. I nibbled my lip and prepared to walk back into the bedroom somewhat undressed. Maybe they would still be sleeping? I mean, I had no reason to be embarrassed—they had all seen me in far less by the pool—but there was just something more intimate about it being in my bedroom and being naked under a robe.
Heat flashed over me, contrasting the embarrassment.Well, that was a bit confusing.Inhaling sharply, I tried to not consider how easily one of them could take off the robe and…
No! I needed answers. Answers first.
As I neared the door, I paused in front of the scale and examined the small silver device that had so quickly become a focal point in my life. I considered stepping onto it but made myself stop, pausing to consider how it would either improve or ruin my morning. Was I willing to take that chance? I knew without a doubt that if it showed I’d gained weight, I would feel ten times worse.
My throat pulsed with pain as it did after a particularly bad episode.