Chapter sixteen

Three days later after Josiah's funeral, Shorty was released from the hospital. From the moment I helped her out of the wheelchair and into the car, she didn't say one word; she just stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts.

Shorty's grandmother's only brother passed away in his sleep a few days before the funeral. After Jo's funeral, Abuela flew to Puerto Rico. She didn't want to leave Shorty behind with everything that happened, but we convinced her that she and Sophie would be taken care of.

Once we pull up to the house, I shut off the ignition and glance over at the strong girl beside me. She fell asleep sometime during the drive. From here, she almost looks at peace. It fucking guts me knowing reality is going to set in when she wakes up. I scrub my hands down my face and slide out of the Range Rover. I jog to the passenger side and open her door, carefully unfastening her seatbelt.

"Shorty, we're home."

She doesn't move.

"Baby, we're home. Open your eyes." I run my nose up and down her cheek.

Slowly, her eyes open. At first, she looks confused when she glances around and back at me.

She gives me a small smile.

I grab her bag and wheelchair from the trunk.

I help her out of the car and unfold the wheelchair. I wheel her up to the door. The front door opens, and Mom appears with a rag in her hand. She looks at me and Shorty with a sympathetic smile.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mom says, giving her a quick hug, but Shorty doesn't reciprocate fully.

"Where's Dad?" I ask as I shut the door behind me.

"He's in the den with Sophia." Mom's smiles.

"I'll let you get settled. Dinner will be ready in an hour." She rubs Shorty's arms and steps aside to give us room to enter.

We make our way to her bedroom and I open the door to the guest room that was prepared for her. Setting her bag down, I kneel in front of her, "How about you take a shower, and then we'll get something to eat."

She blinks twice.

The blank look in her eyes guts me. I know she is detaching herself emotionally from everything around her, including me, and I hate it.

Once we make it to the bathroom, I guide her to sit on the bench. Closing the door, I turn on the shower and kneel in front of her to remove her shoes and socks.

"Shorty, I'm going to remove your top, then your pants and panties, okay?"

She nods, keeping her face down. I shouldn't be doing this. This is something Mom should be doing, but I want to take care of Shorty.

She is mine to care for.

Keeping my dick in control, I slowly pull her top over her head, being careful with the cast on her arm, and then remove her bra.

Again, keeping myself in check.

I wrap her top part with a towel.

Then I move to her bottoms, and slide down her leggings, taking her panties with them, and toss them both aside. Grabbing my shirt by the collar, I pull it over my head. Then my pants, leaving me in my boxers. I cover the cast on her arm with a clear bag to prevent it from getting wet.

I push the wheelchair closer to the shower. With my arms wrapped around her waist, I lift her onto the shower chair, ignoring how good she feels in my arms. I join her, shutting the glass door. I grab the shampoo and wash Shorty's hair, then use the conditioner. I lather her soft olive skin with my body wash. My dick is at half-mast as I rub down her legs with the loofah. When I glance up at Shorty, her face is flushed.

I smirk.

At least she's feeling something.

Once she's rinsed and dried, I remove the bags from her cast, pull one of my shirts over her, and slide a pair of sweats over her legs.

I triple tie the strings around her waist because of her petite size. Then I remove my wet clothes and replace them with a pair of joggers and a plain gray T-shirt.

When I open the door to the bedroom, I push her out toward the window where the sun shines through.

"I love you." I bury my face in the crook of her neck, placing a soft kiss against her skin. She leans into my touch. I wrap my arms around her and repeat that she will get through this and how much I love her. There's a knock at the door, and Ash peeks around it and gives me a somber look when his eyes land on Shorty.

"Shorty, I'm going to step out for a minute, but I'll be back," I say softly.

She doesn't answer but lets me lead her to the bed until she lays flat on her back. I place a pillow underneath her broken arm.

I walk out and meet Ash in the hall.

"How is she?"

"Broken, lost…I don't…I don't know how to help her." I rub my hands down my face and grip the back of my neck, letting out a deep breath as I look up to the ceiling.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Just be there for her. Don't push her, just…be there."

I don't respond, but keep my eyes fixated on the ceiling.

"Do you need anything? You look like shit."

I chuckle and shift my eyes from the ceiling back to him. Only Ash can lighten the dark mood that surrounds us.

"Thanks, bro."

He smiles. "Seriously, make sure you take care of yourself. We can take turns looking after her." He pats me on the shoulder.

I nod and give him a half-bro hug.

"I love you, man," he says.

"I love you too, brother."

After Ash disappears down the stairs, I walk back into the room to find Shorty in the same position I left her. As I draw nearer, I notice her eyes are shut.

She's fallen asleep.

I sigh in relief.

My girl looks so small and vulnerable.

I grab a throw Mom left for her in the room and cover her. I lean down and kiss her cheek. After making sure she's comfortable, I walk to the door. With my hand on the doorknob, I take one more glance over my shoulder, hating having to leave her side, even if it's just for a minute. With a heavy sigh, I leave the room.

When I make my way to the den, I hear Sophie babbling cheerfully. I walk into the den and find Dad bouncing Sophie on his knee, dangling toy keys in front of her. I lean against the frame and watch him love this little girl as if she were his own.

"Hey, son," Dad says when he finally notices me.

"Hey, Dad." Sophie flaps her hands up and down in excitement when she sees me.

"Hey, baby girl." I reach out and take her into my arms.

"How is she?" Dad asks quietly.

"Not good."

Dad stands up and places a hand on my shoulder. "She's tough. She will get through this."

"I hope so," I respond, though I doubt it. Losing her brother obliterated her heart. He was her constant and her protector.

"Is Shorty coming down to eat?" Mom asks as she comes into the room.

"No, she fell asleep after her shower." Sophie smacks my face and giggles. I munch on her fingers, making her laugh harder.

"Oh, well, that's understandable. How about I make her a bowl of soup and you can take it up to her when she wakes up."

I nod and hand Sophie over to Dad.

"Wait. Did you—did you help her in the shower?" Mom reluctantly asks.

I rub the back of my neck and take a step back. When I don't respond, she gasps like she's out of breath.

"Donovan Jacob Du Pont!" she whisper yells. "That is inappropriate. You should've asked me to do it."

I glance at Dad, who's smothering a laugh.

Mom snaps her head at dad. "Charles Nicolas Du Pont!"

"While you're living under our roof, you will act like a gentleman. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," I sigh, "I didn't touch her like that, and I wouldn't do that to her. I care for her too much."

Mom's face softens and her shoulders relax. "I know you do, sweetheart."

"Just make sure you wrap it." Dad chuckles.

Mom's face pales.

"Oh, my God! Please tell me you didn't defile that girl?"

"Jesus, Mom. Defile? Really?"

"Jacquie, he's eighteen. He's an adult," Dad says.

Spinning around, Mom glares at Dad. "I don't care if he's thirty years old! He is still my baby."

"All right, I'm leaving now."

"Donovan, we are not done talking," Mom calls after me.

"Yes, we are! I love you, Mom," I say over my shoulder, leaving my parents to bicker about my dick.

When I go back to the room, I find Shorty crying and hugging the blanket tightly against her chest. Setting the soup and glass of water down, I grab my phone and earbuds from the drawer, and slide into bed, pulling her to my chest. Shorty relaxes into me as she continues to break down.

I look through my playlist and land on the song I've been searching for. I insert one ear plug into her ear and the other into mine and press play.

"Not Alone" by Red flows through.

A gut-wrenching scream awakens me from a deep sleep. Shorty shakes and thrashes beside me.

"Please, stop! No more, please."

I lean over and turn on the bedside lamp.

"Shh, it's okay, Shorty," I try to console her, but she continues to cry out, tears falling from her eyes. Dread gnaws my insides from the sound of fear in her voice.

"Oh, God! Please, stop. I can't take it anymore," she sobs, swinging her fist.

"It's just me! Baby, it's Donnie." I catch her wrist before her fist connects with my face.

My door flies open and Mom, Dad, and Ash barge into the room with concerned looks on their faces.

"Please," Shorty mumbles, sweat coating her body.

"It's just a nightmare." My voice barely a whisper, I hold her tighter.

"Is she okay?" Ash asks.

I don't answer him as I glance back at Shorty, trying to wake her up. "Shorty"—my voice cracks—"Baby, wake up. It's just a nightmare. You're safe."

"Donnie! Oh, God! Help me, please help me," she cries, lips trembling.

I fucking hate that she's going through this.

Is this what she felt like when she was being tortured? Bile rises in my throat just thinking about it.

"I'm here. You're safe, I promise. No one is going to hurt you anymore. You're safe." I repeat the words until she settles down. She whimpers, trying to catch her breath.

I tighten my arms around her, burrowing my nose in her neck. "It's safe. You're okay." I press a kiss against her neck and on top of her head.

I hear the door click. I think they all left, but then Ash walks over and crawls into bed and hugs Shorty, then lies beside her just like when we were kids. Shorty lies in between us, but her head rests on my chest so she's facing me. Ash looks over her to me and the tears glistening in his eyes must mirror the emotions on my face.

I softly sing "My Girl" to my girl until her breathing slows down and she's finally fast asleep.