The shower had been too hot and too long and Emily didn't care.
She'd stood there until the water turned lukewarm, then cold, then sort of aggressively cold, and still she hadn't moved because her brain was too busy replaying everything. Not just the physical stuff—though gods, yes, the physical stuff—but the way he'd looked at her.
The way his eyes had gone wet and glassy when she'd told him it wasn't his fault.
The way his hands hadshaken, just slightly, when she'd guided them exactly where she needed them.
The way he'd said I'm scared I love you and want you too much.
Like it cost him something to admit.
Like loving her was the most terrifying thing he'd ever done.
She was home now. In her bedroom. Had been for maybe ten minutes. Had gotten out of the shower and just… stood there, dripping on the bath mat, staring at the wall like an idiot until her teeth started chattering.
