Page 140 of Operation: Defiance

She exhales—a sound so quiet most men would miss it. But I’m not most men.

I set the bags down on the bed.

“These are yours.”

The way she touches them…

Worth every second.

Raine

The bags are warm in my hands. I don’t open them right away. I just hold them, anchoring myself to their weight. Proof I didn’t imagine any of this.

When I finally sort through the first one, everything feels right. The textures. Fabrics. Scents. More than I remember choosing—but not wrong. The brush won’t snag. The hair ties won’t pull.

I swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat.

Normal things shouldn’t feel like reclamation. And yet…they do.

“I’ll shower,” I say. “Then…I might need help.”

He nods without asking what kind.

It’s easier this time. The temperature doesn’t shock my system. The pressure doesn’t hurt. When I step into the underwear and soft leggings afterward, I feel…grounded. Like a person again.

I open the bag on the counter to get the bra.

That’s when I notice the shirt.

Folded once. Soft. Oversized. Not something meant to be seen—something meant to sleep in.

Something I didn’t ask for.

I stand there longer than necessary, my fingers resting on the fabric without lifting it.

Asher planned for me to be here tonight.

The moment stretches into something I don’t understand. There’s a fullness to the emotion. A comfort I didn’t know I was missing until he gave it to me.

I tuck the shirt back into the bag and close it. Carefully.

If I open that door, I won’t have the steadiness I need for what comes next.

The bra.

I hold the band behind me, angle my shoulders, breathe through the pain. But I can’t get the hooks to meet. My right shoulder seizes, and frustration prickles over my skin.

I need help.

I don’t want to ask. Asking means Asher will have to touch me. And I won’t be able to see his hands.

For five full minutes, I try. I even fasten the clasp in front of me, but twisting the bra around my body sends pain spearing through my shoulder and tears welling in the corners of my eyes.

I almost shove the bra into my pocket and go without. But…I need this.

Cracking the bathroom door, I call, “Asher?”

“What is it?” His footfalls are heavy as he reaches the bedroom. Concern tightens a furrow between his brows.