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Another round of heaves explodes. All the while, he gently rubs my back, and Teresa holds my hair.
"Fuck."
Teresa lets go of my hair and hands me a towel. I press it over my mouth, and her hands work into my hair.
She's braiding my hair."Thank you, Teresa," I mutter through the towel.
"De nada, mi hija," she says.You’re welcome, my child.
I smile. "Lo siento."
She chuckles. "Don't apologize, Miss Lily.¿Hablas español?"
"Yes. I speak a lot of languages, actually." I lay the towel over my knee and hold my head between my hands, resting my elbows on my knees. "Where are we?"
"My room," Blake says. "What do you need, Lily?"
"A shower." I lift my head.
The room spins, and I almost fall off the bed. He wraps his arms around my waist and stands. We shuffle into his bathroom, and he sits me on a stool.
"Can you manage?"
"Yeah."
"I'll get Teresa to bring you some clothes. I need to speak to Jax."
"About what?" I lift my head, searching his face for some understanding.
"You. Don't worry about it right now. Get a shower and lie down, okay? Teresa will get you anything you need." He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead.
"Okay."
He turns and ambles out of the room. Trembling, I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower. The hot water makes my head cloudy, so I switch to cooler water instead. I shiver, but slowly, the fuzziness of my hangover dissipates.
Using Blake's shampoo and body wash, I scrub the disgusting feeling away. Bits and pieces of my outburst flash through my mind. I groan, leaning against the shower wall.
Oh, God help me.
Tears burn my eyes and spill onto my cheeks. I'm going to have to face them today. I angrily swipe the tears from my face and breathe deeply. Shutting the water off, I step out, wrapping a towel around myself. The fuzziness is gone, but my head's pounding.
I sit on the stool, facing the sink. Staring into the mirror, I shudder at the bags under my eyes, and my placid complexion. My black hair and blue eyes contrast so much its unnatural. Teresa walks up behind me and I stare at her through the mirror's reflection. Her lips twist upward, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
I'm going to miss it here.
"Mr. Mason says you are leaving for a while tomorrow."
"How much do you know about human trafficking, Teresa?" I scan her face in the mirror.
"Mi hija, my daughter, she was taken by some of those people," she says, placing her hands on my shoulders.
My body trembles at her touch. Pain flashes across her face and she lifts her hands.
"Don't. It's fine. I'll shake either way."
She gently sits her hands back down.
"Her name was Maria. Five years ago, Mr. Mason had just started working with Interpol. They found my daughter, but her injuries . . . she was broken. She died. I couldn't go back toMéxicoafter that. I asked Mr. Mason if he had any room for an old, broken-hearted woman in his employment. I’ve been here ever since."