“Two more rats are gone. You can stop throwing up now.” He left the bathroom, muttering about how it was a bad idea to involve me to Brent.

Dave concurred in the hallway.

They’d been hardened from their years working like this. It made me scared that I would end up that way.

What I’d give to have things like they were a few short months ago.

“Blondie, have you showered yet?”

I didn’t respond.

Instead of antagonizing me again, he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He knelt down and slowly stroked my hair.

“Can I run you a bath?”

No words would form for me to accept or decline. The water was turned on and the rushing of water sounded like a waterfall escape.

He left and came back with items I’d need for bathing. Along with bath salts and a candle—I assumed for calming me.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Two hands scooped me up off the ground and I was cradled to Brent’s chest. His heartbeat was an even, calming tempo. He placed a kiss on my head as he sat me down on the edge of the tub.

Silently, he stripped me out of my clothes and kissed each of my shoulders before helping me into the warm water.

I looked around and noticed he added bubbles.

He carefully placed a candle in the corner of the tub and lit it. The flame flickered alive, it was one of my favorite candles I bought multiples of and hid them in my closet. Water rushed over my hair as I sat there holding my knees to my chest.

Shampoo was scrubbed into my scalp and rinsed.

Then conditioned and combed.

Soap was scrubbed into my back.

“How’s my Blondie doing?” He kissed my shoulder again.

“More clean,” I managed a small smile through my fog.

His hands were gentle as he continued to clean me up. If I let him, he might have even brushed my teeth for me.

“Question for a question?” he asked, scrubbing one of my arms with a loofah.

I scoffed at him. How was he trying to play these games right now? “What kind of questions?”

“Easy ones. What’s your favorite color? If you tell me it’s pink, I’ll be excited that my guess was correct.” He handed me a toothbrush.

“I like pink, but my favorite is the deep purple of a sunset. What’s your favorite color big, bad Brent Vaughn? Black?”

He swapped arms to scrub and placed a kiss on my hand. “The golden light that comes off your hair in the sun. The bright blue of your eyes when you tell me you hate me. The soft pink of your lips before you kiss me. And my number one? The reddish tint of your cheeks when you’re so close to me you can’t help but blush.”