June

I’m wearing a thin shirt as I step into the bathtub. Hermes sits at the edge, sleeves rolled up, waiting for me. I want to laugh, but I’m too weak for that. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Hermes Grande would agree to bathe me.

Looking at him now — all calm, quiet, domestic — my heart warms. This is the same man who once told me he didn’t give a damn about me. I really out-lucked myself. He even offered to clean up my vomit. I feel a bit embarrassed about that, but… ...