Steam curled around me as I stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel through my damp hair.
I found one of Dominic's shirts folded neatly on the counter…..a black one, soft and oversized, with a faint scent of his cologne clinging to the cotton. I pulled it on, and it hung halfway down my thighs.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
The shirt made me look even skinnier than usual, my face wasn't blotchy from crying.
I stood there for a second, clutching the hem and trying to get my breathing under control again.
It was okay to feel safe.
It was okay to let someone take care of me.
A faint noise drifted up the stairs….clinking pans, the soft hiss of something sizzling.
My stomach gave a weak rumble. I was hungry.
I padded downstairs barefoot, feeling the cool tiles under my feet.
As I reached the kitchen doorway, I stopped.
Dominic had his back to me.
