Page 60 of Collins
Holding onto the idea that if anyone ever belonged here…
It would be her.
I finish filling the glass and set the bottle back on the counter. One by one, I switch off the lights downstairs until the house settles into a quiet nighttime glow.
Then I head back upstairs.
When I reach the bedroom again, the bathroom door is still open. The soft sound of running water spills into the room.
From the doorway, I can see the back of Johnnie’s head resting against the edge of the tub, her hair gathered loosely as the water continues to rise around her.
I knock lightly on the doorframe so I don’t startle her.
She turns toward the sound, slowly opening her eyes.
I lift the wineglass slightly in my hand, silently asking permission to come in.
A faint, sad smile touches her lips as she gestures for me to enter.
I step inside and place the glass carefully on the ledge beside the tub.
The bubbles have already risen high enough to cover her, soft foam drifting across the surface of the water so that nothing too personal can be seen—just the faint outline of her shoulders. For the first time all day, she looks somewhat peaceful.
“Thank you for being the best person I’ve ever known, Collins.” Her voice is quiet, almost fragile.
“You give me too much credit, Johnnie.”
I try brushing it off the way I always do when she looks at me like that—like I’m something better than I really am. Turning toward the door, I start to step out, wanting to give her some privacy, but her voice stops me just before I reach the frame.
“Do me one favor?”
I pause, then slowly turn back toward her.
She’s already rising from the tub, water sliding down her skin in shimmering rivulets, bubbles slipping away and trailing downher body. The light catches on her skin, the overhead fixture reflecting softly across every curve.
For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
There she stands.
Completely exposed, the sadness in her eyes leaving me the most undone.
Still…I’m only human.
My eyes betray me, lingering longer than they should, noticing the way the cool air has drawn tight goose bumps across her skin. I drag my gaze back to her face.
“Please,” she says quietly. “Just once.”
Her arms hang loosely at her sides, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that she’s standing there naked in front of me.
“Before I tell you everything…I want at least one more night with you.”
The words deliver like a punch to my gut.
“In case you hate me after.”
It’s like she’s already bracing for the moment I walk away. And I hate it. I refuse to believe the truth she’s been carrying will destroy whatever we’ve managed to rebuild between us.
I still don’t have the right words. Nothing that could possibly convince her that hating her has never once been an option for me.
