Chapter 90
90:
In the serene room, they both instinctively lowered their breaths, allowing only the soft whispers of the towel grazing his hair and the occasional shuffle of pages being turned by Collin to pierce the silence. His short hair was a welcome simplicity compared to her own, making the task at hand quicker for her.
Soon, his hair was nearly dry.
“Got a hairdryer? It’ll be quicker and better with warm air,” she suggested.
“In the bathroom,” he responded without looking up from his work.
Linsey fetched the hairdryer and skillfully finished the job. Only when his hair was completely dry did she stow the hairdryer away.
Her gaze lingered on his focused face as he carried on with his late-night tasks. “You always stay up working. Do you even get any sleep?”
Finishing his signature on a document, Collin looked up, his expression unruffled. “I’ve grown accustomed to insomnia,” he admitted calmly.
Linsey’s eyes flickered with understanding—so that was the reason behind the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Hesitantly, she offered with a smile, “If you don’t mind, Collin, I can give you a head massage. It could help you relax and sleep well tonight.”
“Massage?” Collin quirked an eyebrow, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity as he turned towards Linsey. “Wait, you actually know how to do that?”
Linsey nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and challenge. “Oh, absolutely. You’d be surprised how good I am at this.”
Collin’s gaze drifted to the towering stack of documents cluttering his desk, his hesitation palpable.
Linsey’s voice softened, coaxing gently, “You and Dolores are relentless, always buried in work. But remember, the work will always be there. You both need to step back and breathe a little.”
Find the magic on gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s․𝒸𝗼𝗺
A light, disbelieving chuckle escaped Collin. “I have pretty bad insomnia. If this doesn’t help me sleep, you can forget about trying next time.”
“No problem at all,” Linsey replied with a confident smile, her belief in her skills unwavering.
Thus reassured, Collin let Linsey guide his wheelchair to the edge of the bed.
She had initially moved to assist him further, but Collin, with a swift, graceful movement borne of years of necessity, shifted onto the bed himself. Linsey paused, struck anew by his adeptness. She knew that living with a disability demanded resilience and adaptability, traits Collin had clearly honed over the years.
This realization deepened Linsey’s respect and empathy towards him, as she saw the silent strength it took for him to navigate life so independently.
Collin lay sprawled across the bed, his eyelids fluttering shut with a weary sigh. “Go ahead,” he murmured.
Linsey rolled the wheelchair to the foot of the bed before settling down beside him. She leaned over, her fingers brushing against his temples with a tender, deliberate touch. Her massage was gentle yet firm, perfectly calibrated to soothe without overwhelming.
As Linsey’s skilled fingers worked their magic, Collin felt the day’s stress melt away.
The room was filled with a delicate, sweet aroma—not the cloying scent of expensive perfume, but something pure and subtly floral, distinctly Linsey. It was comforting and pleasant, enhancing the serenity that enveloped him.
Slowly, the tension that had knotted his muscles for too long began to unravel under Linsey’s persistent care. Collin’s consciousness faded, lulled by the rhythmic pressure and the tranquil ambiance.
Before long, he succumbed to a deep, peaceful sleep, his breathing evening out into a calm, steady rhythm.
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