Riley wasn't sure why he did it. He would have to see her soon enough.
But if this small gesture gave her any comfort, he wouldn't deny her that.
Fay hesitated for a moment, glancing toward his broad back.
Then, with trembling fingers, she reached for the ties of her dress.
The fabric felt heavier than usual as she loosened it, as though weighed down by her apprehension.
The silence in the room was thick, oppressive.
The only sounds were the soft rustling of cloth and her own uneven breaths.
She had never been this exposed before. Never this vulnerable.
A deep flush crept up her neck and onto her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip, willing herself to push through the shame twisting inside her.
This was for healing. She had to believe that.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally gathered the courage to speak.
"You can turn around now, young master Riley," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
