After uttering those words, Dorothy closed her eyes, her body starting to tremble ever so slightly as if bracing for the agony that was imminent.
But the pain didn't come.
Instead, what arrived was him propping himself up and withdrawing from her.
"I don't want you to compensate me in this way," he said, dropping the words like a stone before turning and walking into the bathroom.
Dorothy remained lying on the bed, her hair splayed out around her like strands of seaweed.
With his weight lifted, the air rushed back into her lungs in greedy gulps, and a bitter smile flickered across her lips.
Was this compensation?
Not really.
She just wanted to feel Everett. Truly feel him intimately.
Even if it meant pain, it was something real.
The sound of water from the bathroom started up again, a gentle patter.
Dorothy sat up in bed, didn't bother with the lights, and just sat on the edge, waiting for him.
When Everett emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, she was there to meet him with an embrace.
"Just this once, no questions, okay, Everett?"
"About your mom?"
Dorothy nodded.
"Alright, I won't ask."
He was always the one to give in, and he was used to it by now.
Everett stroked her hair. "Were you scared today?"
"Yeah, I thought something happened to you."
He never willingly cut contact with her, and she worried—was it an infection, had his condition worsened, was he in a hospital somewhere, or had there been an accident...
Countless possibilities had flitted through Dorothy's mind, but she never imagined he'd gone to the cemetery.
"I'm tough as nails, nothing's going to happen."
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