Reluctantly she freed herself from his embrace. Garrett smiled down at her and then turned to his brother.
“Holler if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine,” Ethan said softly.
Garrett ambled down the walk and climbed into the truck next to Sam. They both offered a wave as they drove away from the house.
“Okay?” Ethan asked as he turned to the door.
She stared up the steps, almost dreading what was inside. Why did it scare her so badly? Why was she such a coward?
“Let’s do it,” she said.
Ethan put the key into the lock and opened the door. Cool air blew over her face as they stepped inside. She braced herself for the surge of memories, but as she moved farther into the interior, she was only struck by the feeling of unfamiliarity.
Her hands crept up her arms and she rubbed absently as her gaze traveled the living room. It seemed so . . . quiet. Uncluttered. Still even. Calm was reflected in the decoration, from the piano catty-corner to the stone fireplace, to the framed art hanging on the walls.
How could this house be hers when every part of her mind screamed chaos?
“Baby? Are you all right?”
Ethan touched her arm, and she jerked from her perusal of the room.
“I-I’m fine.”
“Anything seem familiar?”
She shook her head, precariously close to running as hard and as fast from the house as she could.
“What’s bothering you?” he asked gently.
She turned in a tight circle. The walls, the furnishings seemed to close in on her and mock her. They called her a fraud and told her she didn’t belong.
“Are you sure I belong here?”
“Come here,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, resting his chin on top of her head. “You belong wherever I am. You belong with me. Always. I know this has to be overwhelming for you, but we’ll get past it. Just promise me that when something frightens you that you’ll tell me so I can make it better.”
She squeezed him, holding on as tight as she could. She inhaled his scent and felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against her cheek. They could do this. She could do this.
Finally she pulled away and then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Show me around?”
“I’d be glad to.”
As they wandered through the house, Rachel’s frustration grew. She felt no kinship to this place.
“This is our bedroom and through that door is the master bath,” Ethan said as they walked into a spacious room.
The furnishings seemed feminine. Even the bed was a four-poster with a frilly bedspread. It was hard for her to imagine Ethan in such a setting.
“It doesn’t look like you,” she said slowly.
He smiled. “I have the decorating sense of a mule.”
“But it doesn’t look like me either,” she said helplessly.
“It’s exactly you. Calm, uncluttered. Feminine and beautiful.”
She shook her head, hating those words. Words she’d used to describe the living room exactly. They weren’t her. She walked blindly toward the bathroom, just wanting an escape.
The bathroom was large, with a Jacuzzi tub and a separate shower. The toilet was in its own tiny closet and there were his-and-her sinks lining the wall. But her gaze locked onto the tub.
A distant memory floated by on a cloud, lazy and unhurried. The splash of water. Her sitting in the tub, the water up to her chest. Ethan. She blinked as the image came more sharply into focus.
She was in his arms, leaning against his chest as the water lapped over her br**sts. His hands cupped them, his thumbs brushing over the taut peaks. A shiver stole over her body.
And then his fingers through her hair as he soaped the long tresses. Her hands automatically went to her head, to her shorn locks. Her hair had been much longer then.
“Will you take a bath with me?” she blurted.
He blinked in surprise, and for a long moment he didn’t say anything. He seemed to struggle with exactly what to say, how to respond.
“You used to wash my hair. I remember you touching me.”
Fire built in his eyes, sparking the blue until it resembled a storm front.
“Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
She shrugged, hating the awkwardness of asking her husband, her husband, to be intimate with her again.
“I just want you to hold me.”
He drew her into his arms, and to her surprise, he trembled against her. Was he as adrift as she was? In some ways this had to be even harder for him. He had memories that she didn’t. He could recall how it was between them and miss what they’d lost.
“Have a seat on the bed. I’ll draw the water and then we’ll get undressed together, okay? Mom bought you some new clothes and left them on the bed, so you can pick out something to wear while the water is running.”
She nodded and retreated to the bedroom. There were several shopping bags on the bed, and she sat down and opened one. Jeans, tops, even socks and a new pair of tennis shoes. There was also a bra and several pairs of underwear.
She glanced down self-consciously as she realized she hadn’t worn a bra in longer than she could remember. Or underwear.
Unbidden the image of a man ripping her clothing and her underwear from her flashed in her mind. And then another man stepping between him and her, shoving her attacker away. She’d huddled naked on the dirt floor of the hut while they’d argued, and then her rescuer had shoved her tattered clothing back at her, minus her unsalvageable underthings.