But it was that sentence from Aedric's last words that echoed loudest in his mind: Can you help me bathe? He just couldn't ignore it.
It wasn't the words themselves that rattled him—it was the way Aedric had said them. So simple and trusting but alarmingly, so—intimate.
He didn't want to believe that Aedric, a full grown man—even if he'd just recovered from a mental sickness—wanted Grace, his own fiancée, to give him a bath.
What is he thinking, or doesn't he know the implications of his request?
His fists clenched slightly, even as he fought to keep his expression neutral.
He's her brother, he reminded himself again, but it didn't work as that old, unwelcome pang tightened around his gut.
He clenched his fists subtly, trying to mask the emotion. But the image before him—of Grace, glowing with something divine, holding another man like he was her world—stirred something irrational in him.
Aedric looked between Grace and the others, confusion settling across his face.
