The Intern

Chapter 52

Levi

I fucked up.

I really, truly fucked up.

And I knew that was the understatement of the year.

I let my head fall back against the cold white tiles and groaned, the sound reverberating off the shower walls, loud and unwelcome in the otherwise quiet room. It had been silent since I dulled the soft hiss of the water, shutting it off completely when it did nothing to drown out my thoughts. Not that it would be able to. I was sure nothing could do that right now. My mind hadn't stopped since I came to, and I knew without a doubt that it wouldn't quit anytime soon.

Not when I had that kid on my mind.

Which seemed to be a fucking constant as of late.

A frustrated growl stirred in my throat and I dragged a hand down my face as if doing so could somehow pull the brat's image away with it. But I knew I had no hope of that. He was practically painted on the inside of my eyes at this point, and I wasn't even sure of what I would do if he left me now. Because even though he pissed me off, and as much as I'd hated the things he'd done, there was still nothing in this world I would rather see than him.

I'd known that even before he walked down those stairs.

And at that point I didn't have a chance.

"What the fuck have I done?"

The words left me on a whisper but I knew there was no response for them. None that I could give, anyway. None that would make any sense. None that would justify fucking my ex until neither of us could even move. At least not until hours later. Although I was willing to bet that he still hadn't moved from that spot on the floor. His body had been limp and relaxed, fucked into a peaceful oblivion by the time I left The Wall. And I was sure he would still be that way by the time I got back.

Which would have to be soon now. Typically I never slept much, but I'd spent enough time in this shower today to make up for the gap that was usually between us. Not that he would be getting off the floor any time soon, but I wasn't going to risk him waking up without me. I could be a real shithead when I wanted to be, but I wasn't going to do something like that to him.

No matter how angry I was.

No matter what he'd done to me.

I wouldn't do something like that to him.

I stepped out of my shower and grabbed a towel from the rack, but I had to admit it was useless. I'd stood there in the shower with my head pressed against the wall for so long that I'd dried off completely with the exception of my hair. And if it weren't for the wet strands hanging in front of my eyes, I wouldn't have known I'd taken a shower at all. As it was, my mind had been a screaming mess the entire time my head was held under the heavy beat of the water.

And I still hadn't decided what I was going to do.

Part of me was terrified that I wouldn't figure it out at all, even after I was back at his side. And by then I was supposed to know. By then I was supposed to give him some kind of answer as to what the fuck was going on between us after the whole mess last night. And good or bad, I was at least hoping to give him something. Although part of the reason for that was because I wanted to know the answer myself. Because I really didn't know what was going to happen to us now.

And I'd actually hoped that coming up here would solve it.

It always had before.

Whenever I'd had a problem, I would go to my mother's room and sit with nothing but the silence and my thoughts. And I'd never left without an answer, not until today. But I had to do it now. It wasn't as if I could keep a clear thought in my head with his scent covering every inch of my body. Every time I closed my eyes, I went back to the floor. Back with him. Back where I knew I wanted to be.