Page 41 of Hunter or Hunted

As I stood there in the steam, letting the hot liquid loosen the muscles around my neck, no thoughts turned around in my mind. No fury burned in my chest, no grief pounded through my skull. All I felt was the sting of water through that cut on my foot.

Rhiannon had been right. I’d needed to let it all out. Now that I had, I could pull in a full breath.

It didn’t wash it all away. If I paid close enough attention, my throat felt tighter than usual.

But for today, I could breathe. For today, I needed to breathe.

When I got out of the shower, I blow-dried my hair, patted on some foundation, and smiled as I blotted the blush onto my cheeks. The red lip matched the cherry color of my hair. I stepped into a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. And as I looked at myself in the mirror, breathing came easier.

Yesterday had been a bad day. Today wouldn’t be.

I’d fallen apart, but I’d put myself back together.

But how narcissistic of a thought was that? Because as soon as I walked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen, the reality hit me. I hadn’t put myself back together. At least, not on my own.

Sebastian had.

Everything looked the same as when we’d gotten back yesterday. No bloodied dish towel on the counter, no glass on the floor, no cooking oil splattered on the stove. He had cleaned everything up and put it back where it belonged.

Looking around at it all had me tearing up for the first time all day.

Sitting on the sofa, Sebastian tugged on a stuffed bear. Honey’s jaws clamped around the other side of it. She didn’t pull. Just sat there, pretending to play tug-of-war.

He must’ve caught sight of me or heard my footsteps, because he looked my way. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.” I glanced around the kitchen again. “You cleaned.”

“Just wiped up from dinner. Nothing crazy.”

Aside from the glass, he was right.

Still, he’d wiped down the counters, and swept up the glass, and mopped the floors. The counters only spanned a few feet, and the floor only took up about five feet in each direction. It couldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes.

Such a small thing, but such a big thing to someone who never had it before.

The moment I’d turned eighteen and climbed out into the world on my own, housework became my duty. Living on my own now, I didn’t mind it. But before, when I’d been married, I had more than my mess to clean up. He’d cook something for himself, then leave the pots and pans and cutting board and knives and trash on the counters. I’d ask him to clean it, and he’d say he would, but he never did. Eventually, I got tired of asking and just cleaned it up myself.

Never, not once in my adult life, had someone else cleaned up a mess I had made.

Guilt pinged in my chest too. I knew how resentment festered when one person contributed so much more to a relationship. I didn’t want Sebastian to feel for me how I’d felt for my husband.

“Still,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. But thank you. I appreciate it.”

A quick smile.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Probably Liz and Rhiannon.” He stood and headed that direction. “She’s dropping her off.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the threshold, there they were. A burst of cold air rushed in. Rhiannon carried some miscellaneous clothing and two plastic grocery bags.

Lizzie held a purse over her shoulder, a backpack over her spine, a pillow against her chest, and a mound of clothing in her arms. “Can you unlock the truck? I need to set all this down.”

Sebastian fumbled in his pocket. When he found the car key, he clicked it a couple times. “Why do you have to bring your whole bedroom every time you go to a friend’s?”

“Some of these are Christmas presents, thank you.” She rolled her eyes at him and started off down the steps, still bundling it all close to her chest. “And hi, Gwen! Merry Christmas!”

Chuckling, I walked to the door and found my snow boots on the plastic mat. “Merry Christmas!”