The cold shower lasts until my skin is numb and my thoughts are scrubbed raw. I step out, the plush bathrobe swallowing me in warmth the water stole. The room is a tomb of silence. I towel my hair roughly, the friction a small punishment.
Maybe Angel is already gone.
The thought tightens something in my chest. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have run like that. What must he be thinking about me?
I step farther into the room. The air still carries the faint scent of strawberries—Angel's scent. A deep sigh slips from my lips. My body feels light now, no longer burning, no longer out of control.
Then my gaze shifts to the bed.
Angel is there.
Sleeping.
Peaceful.
He didn't leave.
