Bad Memory

~Welcome Home~

“What do you mean?”

“You're just so kind and gentle. It’s not what I would expect from a general."

Ezra's eyes darkened. For the first time, they lacked their usual warmth and radiance.

"As a general, I'm neither kind nor gentle."

The way he said it - cold, detached, clinical - sent chills through my body.

“But that's my professional life,”  he continued. “Not my personal life. To everyone else, I'm a general. To you, I'm a husband. Understood?”

I nodded.

"I don't mean to frighten you," he said. "I just don't want you to think that my kindness is without limits.”

We ate the rest of our meal in silence, which didn’t seem to bother Ezra. I’m sure he had gotten used to quiet dinners. But it was awkward for me. I kept thinking of what Ezra had said. Despite his assurances, it still felt like a warning. Where were his limits? Would I find out only once I’d crossed one?

Ezra finished and began to clear his plate. I grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Please at least let me clean up.”

He nodded, acquiescing.

Clearing the table gave me a temporary reprieve, but when I started the dishes, my mind began to wander again.

I had no reason to worry about Ezra. Even if he was quiet, serious, and a bit cold, he was infinitely better than Quade. Quade probably wouldn’t have even let me take my shoes off before he had his way with me.

I froze.

Was I even fully bound? Had Ezra and I consummated our marriage? They said I was taken shortly after the Cermony, but did that mean before our Binding Night?

And if we hadn’t…when I finished the dishes, were we going to? Lillian wouldn’t tell me any details about her Binding Night, only that it was "excruciatingly painful" and “the worst experience of her life.”

Panicked, the glass I was washing slipped out of my hand and cracked apart in the sink. Like an idiot, I reached in to grab the shards, slicing my hand in the process. Blood immediately started dying the dish water red.

“Shiloh?”

The sound of Ezra’s voice made me jump. I spun around, hiding my hand behind my back.

His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I squeaked.

Ezra’s lips pursed again. Before he could even accuse me of lying, the truth spilled out.

“I was washing a glass and it slipped and it broke and I cut my hand and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry, I just-"

“Shiloh, stop apologizing.”

“Sorry,” I replied reflexively. My uninjured hand flew over my mouth. “Sorry!”

Protector save me, I can’t stop.

Ezra stepped forward and put a finger to my lips. I fell silent immediately.

“Give me your hand.”

I took my injured hand out of the water and turned it over to him. He inspected it, then took a clean dish towel and pressed it against the cut.

"Keep applying pressure.”

Ezra left and returned with a bandage and some cream. He applied both with quiet confidence, his hands moving deftly but gently as he cleaned and bandaged the wound. Is that how he was in bed? Strong, but soft? Lillian's husband wasn't gentle or kind, so maybe her experience wouldn't be the same as mine.