There were some basic toiletries laid out on the sink and in the various drawers, and I turned the hot water on to get it to its full potential while I forcefully worked a brush through my hair. I probably did far more damage than ideal and tore out more hair than I should have, but when the brush finally glided through with minimal problems, I tossed it back on the counter and stepped under the wire. My mind blanked out, so focused was I on the sheer sensory pleasure of hot clean water pouring over my naked body.
My stomach growled again and I felt momentarily lightheaded. Probably for the best I wasn't in the steam room, I conceded grudgingly. Knowing that he was just a few doors away, I quickly made use of the various bottles in the enormous shower stall. Three shampoos later, the last of the grit and grime had been washed out, and I was also now hyperaware of every single spot of bruised and broken skin on my body.
I tossed in some conditioner and then soaped up my body while I waited, trying desperately to not think about how much more fun it would be if someone else's hands were lathering me up, if someone else was in the shower with me, taking care of the other elemental hunger that had been slowly building up.
My hand slipped between my legs just as I heard a sharp rap on the door. “Almost done,” I called out, feeling guilty. Poor guy hadn’t napped or showered at all yet. I stepped into the shower, quickly lotioned up, and then threw on the thin, fitted tee and cute pajama shorts I found in the walk-in closet. I maxed out the drawstring on the shorts so I was in no danger of humiliating myself in front of Wyatt. Well, at least not in that particular way. I’d find something else to compensate with. Like another steam room comment.
I thought about hunting for a bra, but that just seemed needlessly cruel after everything my poor body had gone through already.
A quick glance in the mirror showed that my skin once again had that washed, clean glow about it, and my hair was slick and shiny. This was as good as it was going to get. I opted out blow-drying my hair in order to get the food faster, and instead use one of the smaller hand towels to quickly scrub most of the water away. I stepped out of the bathroom on a cloud of steam, and was instantly hit with the smell of something rich and soothing.
Oh my God, that smells amazing. I followed my nose into the kitchen. Wyatt was standing at the stove, stirring a pot full of what looked like tomato soup. Next to it was a pan with hamburgers frying in it, and in the oven, I could see what looked like a loaf of bread. He turned and smiled, a sort of intimate smile that made me feel like I meant something to him, instead of him being a virtual stranger riding a decades-old guilt trip who’d saved me from the men who came after my father. “You look a lot more refreshed,” he observed.
“And I probably smell a lot better, too,” I joked.
His eyes raked over me from head to toe, fast enough that it didn’t feel rude, slowly enough that I knew he liked what he saw. “You smelled just fine before.”
My cheeks went red, and it had nothing to do with the hot shower I’d just taken. “Did you get any updates from your friend Luke?”
His persona switched quickly from suave to serious. “Yes. Your father is safe, but deep asleep. Sheriff’s shared everything he knows. I know there’s a lot you don’t know yet, but I’m glad that your father reached out to me for help.”
“You, specifically?”
“Yes. I found you because your father told one of the nurses to reach out to me.” There was a plate piled high with grilled cheese sandwiches already made, and Wyatt wrapped one in a paper towel and handed it to me. “No food restrictions, I hope?”
“I try to avoid dairy for vanity reasons, but I think this is a special situation.” I sank my teeth into the hot, gooey sandwich as my stomach gurgled happily. I could survive a few days of bad skin for this. “He… he told me to take off my necklace. My mom’s necklace. Said someone would find me.”
“A… necklace.” Wyatt’s attention was focused on pouring the tomato soup into two separate mugs, but I couldn’t miss the sudden tension. “Is that how we couldn’t sense you? Did your father wear one, too?”
“Why would you be able to sense us? Why would my father want to hide us from you, but then change his mind? What happened between our families when we were children?” I sat down at the kitchen table, legs still shaky. Outside the kitchen window the sun was starting to light up the sky. I wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer.
He didn’t answer immediately, but started carrying over the random foods to the table. I picked up another grilled cheese. As much as I trusted him, wariness curled in my gut and my mind raced through my options. The last time I’d seen the gun was when I’d put it in my coat pocket, which had been thrown over a sofa. There were three exits from this room—two windows and the open doorway that led to the living room. The windows were closed and probably reinforced for protection, and he stood between me and the doorway.
“Wyatt, I really need to talk to my father.”
“You’re not going to like what he’s going to tell you.” As I started to rise out of my seat, the sandwich falling out of my hand, he shook his head, palms out, a frustrated note in his voice. “Not like that. Not a threat. I told you. I’m sorry. I know you have no real reason to trust me, but… I really am on your side. More than anyone else will ever be other than yourself. But… you don’t remember anything from your childhood?”
“My earliest memory is in a small, dingy apartment when I was four or something. Super was screaming at my dad about late rent. Next thing I knew, we were in a car, driving away in the middle of the night. I was upset because I’d left my favorite stuffed animal behind.”
“That raggedy little black rabbit with the missing eye?”
If I’d still been holding the sandwich, I would have dropped it again. “Who are you?”
“I made fun of you for having a stuffed animal bunny when you were three and I was five and tried to steal it from you. You bit me. Had the scar for years.”
I didn’t expect to laugh, but I did. “We were friends?”
“No. We couldn’t stand each other.”
“Did we… become friends?”
He stared at me, like he was waiting for something to connect, a lightbulb to go off. His hands clenched, over and over again, some sort of huge energy building up inside of him. “When I woke up the next morning after that, you were gone. And I never saw you again until I ran into you outside the motel. I spent years looking for you.”
My father flipping the cart over.
“But why…” My throat was dry. “Who am I to you? What was so special about my family? Why…” Why do I feel this way around you, when I’ve always felt disconnected from everyone else?
Run and take off the necklace so they can find you!
He shoved what looked like half a burger in his mouth, eyes locked onto mine as he chewed through it. His head slowly swung back and forth and it looked like a crushing weight had suddenly landed on his shoulders.
“I want to speak with my father right now. Wake him up.”
My senses going haywire after I took the necklace off.
“I can answer every single question that you’re going to ask him, but only he can answer every single question I have for you. Let him sleep.”
Can you shift?
The truth, so painfully obvious that I felt like a fool for not figuring it out within minutes of meeting Wyatt, hit me like a train. A small whimpering noise slipped out and when he stood up, reached out for me, I nearly tipped the chair over in my haste to step out of reach. “No. No, I can’t be.”
“It’s not a curse, Cara. I promise.”
“Why didn’t my father tell me? How could he hide this from me?” I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, wondering if it would wake me up. Nothing changed. “I’m just like you. I’m a… Oh, God. I’m a shifter, aren’t I?”
Wyatt said nothing, but the look on his face confirmed it.
Chapter Seven
Outside Seyville, Nebraska
Wyatt