Haven's Knight

by Regan Ure

  "I just hope they fit," she murmured, while she watched me lift up a pajama top and hold it up against my chest. The clothes were beautiful.

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  "You’re welcome, Haven," she told me gently. "Visiting hours are nearly finished and I need to get back to work."

  She stood up and gave me a quick hug.

  "Whatever doesn't fit, send it home with Damien and I'll get it changed," she offered as she turned to leave.

  When she got to the door she turned and said, "I'm so happy you’re coming to stay with us."

  I gave her a weak smile because I feared if I tried to talk I'd end up crying again.

  I looked at the clothes for a while, still trying to wrap my mind around the thought that someone could be so kind. Most of the clothes I owned had been secondhand; I couldn't remember getting new clothes.

  She'd bought me two simple T-shirt pajamas with matching pants—one was a baby blue and the other was pink. There was a light gray and a light blue tracksuit. The underwear she bought was plain cotton with matching bras and she'd brought me a couple of white T-shirts.

  I'd been dying to shower but I hadn't been able to with the cast and the drip, so the nurses had been giving me wipe downs in the bed and I'd hated it. Now that the drip was out and I had some clean clothes, I wanted to have a shower or a bath. I wasn't sure which one would work better with the cast on my arm, because I couldn't get it wet.

  Still unsure of how exactly I was going to get this right, I slowly shifted to the side of the bed and slid down until my feet touched the floor. My stomach was sore and my whole body ached. I remembered the nurse saying that the dressing over my wound was waterproof, so it didn't need to be kept dry. It hurt too much to stand up straight so I crouched over a little and it eased the pull on my stomach muscles. I shuffled slowly to the ensuite bathroom with the new blue pajamas Amy had bought me in my hand. Damien had put the vanity bag full of toiletries into the bathroom yesterday.

  As I reached for the hand of the bathroom door I heard Damien say, "What the hell are you doing?"

  Moments later his hands were on either side of me, helping me.

  "I want to shower," I murmured to him, trying to concentrate on putting my next foot forward, intent on getting to my goal.

  "Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, sounding slightly exasperated with me.

  "You can't exactly help me shower," I retorted as I frowned at him.

  "I could help you get there and back in one piece," he informed me. He decided that walking wasn't a good option and he picked me up gently, like I weighed nothing, and carried me into the bathroom. He set me down on the toilet seat.

  "I could have done it," I assured him. There was no way I was going to admit I was having difficulty accomplishing my goal and that he'd made it easier for me.

  "What if you'd fallen?" he questioned with frustration as he frowned at me. He knelt in front of me and tucked a piece of hair that had fallen in my face back behind my ear.

  "You can't be there all the time, I need to learn to do things on my own," I insisted. As much as I wanted to rely on him for a lot of things, I needed to start taking control of my life.

  "I just want to make sure you don't hurt yourself in the process," he told me softly, and then he stood up as he surveyed the small white bathroom.

  "It might be easier for you to bathe than shower," he said. He started to run a bath for me.

  "A bath sounds good, thanks," I said, nervously holding my new pajamas.

  "Are you sure you're not going to need some help?" he asked, turning to look at me.

  "I think I can manage," I replied, feeling a blush taint my cheeks at the thought that he might be offering to help me.

  He smirked.

  "I wasn't offering to help," he explained. "I'd get one of the nurses to help you."

  I blushed harder.

  "I don't need help," I muttered, watching him turn to test the temperature of the water with his hand. He adjusted the water accordingly and when the bath was half full he turned the taps off.

  "If you need anything just shout and I'll get a nurse, okay?" he said.

  "Sure,” I confirmed as he left the bathroom and closed the door. I sighed with relief.

  Being so close to him made me feel things I'd never felt before, and it was hard trying to figure out what I was feeling and hide it from him at the same time.

  I began to undress. The hospital gown was easy to get off and I stood in front of the sink, naked.

  It was the first time I'd seen my body naked since the attack. I knew the attack was bad—I remembered every hit—but to be faced with the physical proof of what had happened was hard.

  After all the tears I'd cried, I honestly didn't feel that there were any left, but I was so wrong. Tears gathered in my eyes and then slid down my face as my fingers touched the bruises all over my stomach. Even my thighs were marked with bruises. I turned to look at my face in the mirror. It wasn't the first time I was seeing my face after the attack, but it was still a shock. My one eye was still badly bruised and there were still dark bruises covering most of my face. I looked hideous. To think that someone could hate me enough to do this to me was hard to cope with.

  I sobbed into my hands, trying to cry quietly so that Damien wouldn't hear.

  "It's okay, Haven," I heard Damien say from the other side of the closed bathroom door. "You're still beautiful."

  I tried to stop crying, feeling guilty that he’d heard me. His words had been so sweet but he didn't understand that my crying had nothing to do with the superficial state of my body. It had more to do with the fact that Grant had done this to me. Furiously, I brushed my tears from my face. I needed to pull myself together. I'd been through so much and I'd held on. I wasn't going to fall apart now.

  Trying to ignore the fact that Damien was probably still on the other side of the bathroom door I got the toiletries I needed out of the vanity bag. I decided on the vanilla body wash and I found a small tube of face wash. Amy had really thought of everything.

  Slowly, I climbed into the warm bath. My aching body reveled in the warmth and I couldn't help but sigh as I sank into the bath.

  I was careful with my cast arm, as I didn't want to get it wet. Once I was seated in the bath I leaned back and took a deep breath as the heat from the water eased my aching body. Trying to wash myself with only one working arm was a lot more difficult than I'd first imagined, but after a while I got the hang of it. I washed my entire body, then rinsed off and got out of the bath. It took longer to dry off with one hand as well. I opened the vanilla body cream and rubbed it light across my body. I couldn't help but take a deep breath of the calming smell. I smelled good enough to eat.

  "Are you still okay in there?" Damien asked, sounding nervous through the bathroom door. I wasn't surprised, as I'd been in here for a while already.

  "I'm almost done," I assured him as I picked up the new underwear Amy had bought me. I slipped into the underwear, and it fit perfectly.

  It was only after I put the blue pajama bottoms on and I took the bra in my hand that I realized I wouldn't be able to put the bra on myself.

  "I'm going to need a little help," I told Damien through the door, feeling a little nervous.

  I slipped the bra on and held it against my chest. All I needed was for him to join the clasp at the back for me.

  I opened the door and Damien stepped inside the small bathroom. I didn't miss the quick look as he took the sight of me nearly half naked in front of him. Suddenly, I wasn't sure this was my best idea.

  "I need you to do up the back for me," I instructed as I turned my back to him.

  After a moment he stepped closer. He remained silent as I felt his fingers graze my skin as he began to work the clasp together. I felt a tingle on my skin where his hands touched my skin. I held my breath, trying to calm my breathing down at the excitement of having his hands touch me. I mentally wanted to kick myself. This had been a bad idea.


  His fingers worked the clasp for a few more moments before I felt the strap tighten around my chest.

  "Done," he murmured, but his fingers were still touching my back. He bent down closer to me, and I could feel his breath on my neck.

  "Thank you," I said breathlessly. I pulled away, unable to deal with the effects he had on me.

  He was out of my league. With just the slight brush of his fingers against my skin he had sent my dormant hormones into overdrive. He should come with a warning: Do not touch! I didn't have the experience necessary to know how to handle him.

  "Do you need more help?" he asked while he watched me pick up the pajama shirt.

  I wanted to say no, but I knew it would be nearly impossible getting into the shirt with my arm in a cast without some help.

  As much as I wanted to say no, I said, "Yes."

  Luckily the shirt was made from a stretchy material, so with Damien's help I was able to get my cast arm through the short sleeve and then over my head. Then I slipped my other arm into the other sleeve.

  I smoothed the shirt down over my exposed stomach, and when I looked up I stared straight into his dark-blue eyes. I would have sworn that they'd darkened slightly. I bit down on my lip, unable to pull my gaze from his.

  "Do you want to wash your hair?" he asked, before he averted his gaze, breaking the spell between us.

  My hair felt so grubby and I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to do with only one hand. I knew I was probably playing with fire, but I nodded.

  "Sit down by the bath and lean over," he instructed as he picked up the shampoo and conditioner from the vanity bag.

  I kneeled down by the side of the bath and tried to lean over as much as I could. The water began to run into the bath and then he adjusted the taps. I heard the water spray through the pull-out showerhead. His fingers glided through my hair as the water began to run over my head and down my hair. I held my breath the entire time he shampooed my hair. He delicately kneaded my head with his fingers. He rinsed my hair and then he conditioned it. By the time he began to rinse the conditioner I was straining against the effect his hands had on me. He was helping me wash my hair for crying out loud, and yet my whole body was concentrated on every small touch as his fingers moved through my hair.

  "All done, but we need to dry it," he told me as he stood up and reached for a small towel. While I remained bent in the bath, he wrapped the small towel over my head and began dry my hair with the towel.

  Once he was happy he'd dried most of the water out, he helped me stand. My body ached from being bent over in the bath for so long and I felt a little wobbly on my feet as I tried to stand.

  "Sit down," he instructed to me. He took me by the arms and guided me over to the toilet seat and pushed me down to sit.

  He turned around and opened the cupboard door to look for a hairdryer. He found a small one. I sat still and watched him quietly—he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Once he plugged the hairdryer in, he began to dry my hair. I couldn't believe I was here unable to do a lot of things for myself and Damien Knight, the school heartthrob, was helping me wash and dry my hair. The noise stopped when he switched off the hairdryer and looked into the vanity bag for something. He pulled out a brush and began to brush my hair. I fidgeted with my hands, trying to concentrate on anything but him.

  "You seem to be really good at this," I murmured, wanting to break the awkward silence.

  "Yeah, my mom hurt her wrist once and I had to help her wash and dry her hair for a couple of weeks," he murmured while he brushed my hair. It felt so good to have nice and clean hair again.

  He switched on the hairdryer again and began to dry my hair properly. It didn't take long before he switched the hairdryer off and unplugged it. He turned and stuffed it back into its place in the cupboard. Gently, he brushed my hair once more before he put the brush down beside the sink. I stood up and touched my hair and smiled at him.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he whispered while his eyes held mine. I felt captivated and unable to pull my gaze from his.

  He stepped closer. His hand touched my hair and he slid his hand into my hair and threaded it through his fingers as he pulled me closer. Unable to fight what I wanted anymore, I moved closer. My hands settled on his chest and I could feel the warmth from his body through his shirt. His eyes flickered from my eyes to my lips. He leaned closer and I held my breath. I felt a flutter in my stomach at the anticipation of my first kiss.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Haven

  Nothing could have prepared me for what happened to me when his lips finally touched mine. His lips were so soft as they pressed against me. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of being kissed for the first time. The butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach and my whole body tingled all over. I bunched his shirt under my hand to keep him in place. I'd never felt like this before.

  His lips moved against mine, more demanding, and I followed his lead and pressed my lips harder against his. I breathed him in. He smelled of musk and spice. I felt his tongue sweep into my mouth and I opened my lips to accommodate him. My knees weakened at the first touch of his tongue against mine. His one hand remained threaded through my hair as he angled my head back slightly to get better access to my mouth.

  His other arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me firmly where he wanted me, pressed up against his hard body. All thoughts evaporated and all that mattered was this boy kissing me for the first time. I didn't want to overanalyze it, I just wanted to feel, just this once. His tongue stroked mine as he gripped me tighter. I loved the taste of him. He tasted like fresh mint and apples. I groaned as the kiss became heated and I wanted more, so much more.

  Then he was gone. I opened my eyes to see him standing a foot away from me, looking at me, horrified.

  "I'm sorry," he gasped, running a hand through his hair. He backed up to the door, then turned and left.

  I touched my bruised lips, trying to figure out what had happened to make him stop kissing me. Had I done something wrong? I replayed the kiss in my mind trying to figure out what had happened, but I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. How could he be sorry about something that had made me feel so much? I was so shaken, I sat back down to try and get myself together. Why had he kissed me? My lip trembled slightly at the memory of his face when he'd pulled away from me.

  I wished I could have stayed in the bathroom instead of going back into my room, but I couldn't stay here forever. I tried to get myself together and process my thoughts as I finished up what I needed to. I stalled for another fifteen minutes after I'd finished brushing my teeth before I reached for the handle of the bathroom door.

  He was waiting outside the door.

  "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmured awkwardly, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans.

  His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him. He couldn't even look at me. There was nothing like telling a girl you were sorry after you'd kissed her.

  "You were in there for a while."

  He wanted to make sure that I was okay? I wasn't okay. I averted my gaze from him and shuffled past him to the hospital bed.

  "I'm fine," I whispered.

  I was exhausted. I wasn't sure if it was because of the physical exertion or the emotional drain that had depleted my energy. I struggled to get back into bed. He sighed and then he lifted me, bridal style, onto the bed. Although I was upset with him, I was relieved to be back in the bed.

  "Thanks," I muttered. I pulled the blanket over my body. My body ached and I could feel every bruise.

  He hovered next to me.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, with concerned eyes.

  "I'm just tired," I murmured. It wasn't the whole truth. I was tired, but I also was sore, and my body was aching. Maybe I'd overdone it. And my heart was a little raw, too. I wasn't vulnerable to many people, but I was vulnerable to Damien. He had the power to hurt me emotionally.

  "You look a
little pale, are you in any pain?" he asked, stepping closer to study me.

  "A little," I mumbled before I closed my eyes to try and manage the pain.

  "I'll tell the nurse," he told me before I heard him leave the room.

  A few moments later, he returned with a nurse who held a cup of water and a couple of tablets.

  "Drink this," Nurse informed me.

  I tried to sit up but suddenly I was just too weak.

  Damien helped me sit up as the nurse handed me the tablets and water.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I swallowed the tablets and then sagged back down into the bed as the nurse left the room. I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. I didn't have the energy to go around and around in my head trying to figure out what had happened to make Damien sorry he’d kissed me. I was too tired to care.

  I turned onto my side, facing away from Damien, and closed my eyes. There was a scrape of a chair and the sound of what I assumed to be Damien sitting down. After a few awkward minutes of silence, I felt the painkillers take effect and the pain in my body began to ease, and in my pain-free bubble I began to drift off to sleep.

  It was early evening when I woke up.

  I was sleeping on my side facing Damien, who was paging through a magazine. When he saw movement, he closed the magazine and leaned closer.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked anxiously.

  "I'm fine," I answered, rubbing my eyes. I didn't feel any pain and I felt better now that I'd had some sleep. I had no idea that the simple task of bathing and washing my hair would tire me out.

  "Chris came by to visit but you were fast asleep," he told me. Disappointment flooded through me. I'd been looking forward to his visit all morning and I couldn't believe I'd missed it.

  "The nurse came to check on you," he went on. "She said you might have done too much and tired yourself out."

  I remained silent as I let my gaze wander past him.

  Would he talk about what had happened? Or was the kiss going to be swept under the rug and never mentioned again? The problem with sweeping it under the rug and not talking about it was that the awkwardness between the two of us would continue, and I didn't want that. I'd been through so much, and I needed him.