As soon as Tess leaves, I make my way to the tub. Cranking the taps, I adjust the water temp before turning on the shower. “Come on,” I say, looking down at her while I slip the buttons on my shirt free of their loops. “Get in the shower.”

She watches me while I unlace my work boots and take off my jeans. “I don’t need you to bathe me, Patrick,” she says, glaring up at me.

“I never said you did,” I counter, pulling back the shower curtain. When I look at her, she’s still sitting on the toilet, glaring at me. “Did it ever occur to you that I might want to take care of you?” I sigh, running a hand through my hair while fighting the urge to pull it out. “That I might need to take care of you, right now.”

I can tell by the look on her face that the thought never even crossed her mind. Knowing that makes me feel like shit.

I lean over to turn off the shower before lowering myself to sit on the edge of the tub. “When Tess told me what James did—that you went to see him on your own...” I swipe a hand over my face, focusing my gaze on the place where our knees touch because I can’t look at what James did to her face and keep my shit together at the same time. “I lost it. I don’t even really remember how I got there or taking the bat from behind the bar. All I remember is that I had to get to you. I had to... and then you were there, and you were bleeding...” I stop because remembering her like that is making it very hard for me to think. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve killed him. I would’ve killed him, and anyone else who tried to stop me and that scares the shit out of me. I feel like I’m on fire and it’s taking every bit of control I have to not make things worse by hunting James down and finishing what you started so, can you please just let me take care of you? Not because you need it. Because I need it.”

I can feel her looking at me, so I force myself to look back and hold my breath. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to telling her how I feel about her and I have no idea how she’s going to respond. I expect her to laugh at me or tell me to get out. That what I want and need don’t matter right now. Instead, she stands up and gets in the shower, making room for me to follow.

When I step into the shower and close the curtain, she’s got her back to me, shoulders stiff. “Hand me my shampoo, please?” she says, turning her face to give me a quick look over her shoulder. Because I don’t know what else to do, I pick it up and squirt some into the palm of my hand.

“Let me,” I tell her, gathering her hair in my hands to rub my shampoo covered hands over the length of it as gently as I can. Despite my being careful, she lets out a hiss when my hands reach her scalp. “Sorry,” I mutter, dropping my hands to her shoulders. “I—”

I have no idea what I’m going to say but she doesn’t give me the chance. She turns, dropping her head onto my shoulder, her own shaking under my hands.

“I’m still mad,” she says between watery sobs, her arms tucked against her body, hands under her chin.

“I know,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her, so I can hold her while she cries.

While Cari dries off, I duck across the hall and grab the box my mom sent me a couple of Christmases ago off the top shelf of my closet. Tearing it open, I snatch what’s inside, along with a change of clothes and take them back across the hall. “Here,” I say, holding it out to her. “Put this on.”

“Since when do you own a robe?” she says, noticing the price tag still stuck to the sleeve. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, one more so than the other, ringed in a light bluish bruise.

“Since my mother sent it to me for Christmas,” I say, jerking the price tag off and tossing it in the trash. “I tried it on—it makes me feel like Hugh Hefner.”

She laughs, and it’s the first genuine laugh I’ve heard from her in days. Since the day we made love in her bed while it rained outside. “Besides,” I tell her while shoving it into her hand. “I owe you a robe.”

She stops laughing, looking at the robe I handed her. I think she’s going to try to explain it to me again. Why she did what she did. Why she turned me inside out for months and months. But she doesn’t. “Thanks.” She unties the belt and pulls it on.

“You did good today,” I say, pulling the robe together while she re-ties the belt. “You took care of yourself.”

“I can, you know.” She looks up at me. Black-eye. Busted lip. “I can take care of myself. And I don’t need you or James or anyone’s money to do it.”

“I know that.” Seeing her like this makes me want to kill James. Trevor. Anyone who’s ever hurt her. Including myself. Before she can stop me, I lean down, pressing my lips to her mouth in a quick, soft kiss. When I pull back, she’s looking at me. “I’ve always known that—but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to take care of you. It just means that it’s going to take some time for me to figure out when I should and when I shouldn’t.”

“James knows about us.” She’s saying it all in a rush like she’s ripping off one long, grotesque band aide. “That’s why he screwed with the time stamp on the video. So you’d think Chase and me—”

“I believe you.”

She looks at me like I’m the one who’s lying. “You believe me. Just like that?”

“Yup,” I smile at her and kiss her again. “Just like that.”

She laughs, but it sounds likes it hurts. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” I tell her, rubbing my hair dry with my towel.

“You’re being sued for sexual assault by a psychotic cocktail waitress, and I’m being blackmailed with a sex tape by my slimy ex-boyfriend—both of which are my fault—”

“Let’s get something out of the way, right now,” I say, stopping her cold. “None of this is your fault, Cari. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t blame you. I’m not angry with you. Not for any of it—okay?”

“I appreciate the sentiment but...” She shakes her head, leaning past me to open the bathroom door. “Let’s just leave it alone, okay? I’m worn out, and I don’t want to fight anymore.”

I reach for her before she can make her getaway. Cupping her face, I tip her head back so I can look her in the eye. “So, let’s not fight.” It’s not what I want to say to her. I want to say that I love her and that I’m sorry but I know she’s not ready to hear it, so I just focus on getting us through the next 24-hours because that’s all that matters right now.

She doesn’t smile. She just nods her head and says, “Okay.”