Waiting on Sarah Grace

**Clean or Dirty; Can't Decide **

"Ok. Ok. Carry my dishes downstairs and then you can carry me to the tub."

He kisses me putting heat into it, to show me his desire.  Giving me a dirty smirk and a wink on his way out the door; I roll my eyes at him again and I hear him laughing all the way downstairs.  Today is tricky.  I feel guilty for not being at the funeral and I feel guilty, because it was supposed to be me.  The oppressive heaviness that I have been feeling, is getting a little easier to process, leaving me with the guilt. I know all the stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  It's kind of hard to deny it, since I saw her in the car, and I can't bargain to bring her back.  I don't even know who I'm supposed to be angry at, maybe I've just skipped all of those and gone straight to depression. I'm not sure what's going to happen in the future, I just know who will be with me that I can depend on.  And the main one just walked through the door.

"You ok?"

"I guess, I just feel guilty for not being there today, I know she would understand and so does everyone else; but it doesn't make it any less acceptable."

"I know love, it's going to take time and you have to go through the sadness and the anger, so you can come through this without letting yourself get lost in bitterness.  I know.  A lot the guys from my unit still struggle and the struggle is ok, it just means you're still trying to live your life."

Lifting me up and setting me on the toilet seat so he can get some towels for me, one of course, for the bottom of the tub and hands me one to cover up with.  He begins digging through the built-in cabinet and pulls out the box of Epsom salt.  Best. Idea. Ever. He sets the salt and the body wash on the side of the tub, grabbing hand towels to prop my leg on.  I snatch an elastic band of the sink and begin trying to put my hair up, before he takes it from me and does it himself.  Thanking him, he steps out and gives me a chance to get undressed.  I admit, it is a struggle to get my shorts and t shirt off, along with my underwear. Note to self, if it's not a necessity, I'm not putting it on again.  Finally, wrapping my towel around myself, Shooter walks back in and stops, just staring at me.  Taking in the sight of my body barely covered by the towel.  He blinks a couple of times, picks me up and sets me on the side of the tub. While he starts the water and stops the tub, I try and slide down into the tub on my own; Success!  Finally, something I can do by myself.  He pours in the salt, gives me one more kiss and steps out to let me enjoy soaking in the hot water.

I have to tell myself over and over to let go of the doorknob and do not go back in there. I have to remember; she's grieving and hurting.  She's not ready for anything right now.  I need to go back in there and help her, but I can't.  There's no way I could go help her soap up her body and not do something.  Just having her next to me last night was almost more than I could stand.  That's the reason I kept my jeans on instead of getting comfortable, but I couldn't be comfortable with my dick hard and constrained against my zipper.  STOP! I have to redirect my thoughts elsewhere or I will be in there.  The kitchen needs cleaning.  I head downstairs with the intention of distracting myself for at least fifteen minutes.  I need to check in with the guys out front. We are going to owe this club one hell of a favor.  Good thing they're ex-military.  

I managed to kill about ten minutes.  I should probably go check on her, make sure she can reach her towel or maybe not.   Maybe I should take a shower myself, rub one out while I'm in there.  I'll see if she needs me first. Climbing the stairs, two at a time, I get to the bathroom door; just knowing what's on the other side, it's the entrance to my heaven.  

"Baby, do you need anything?  I'm going to take a shower in the downstairs bathroom."

"No, I'm good. The water is still hot, so I'll stay a while longer."