"That's right," Ryder confirmed, looking slightly intimidated by the wall of boxes before us. "So what do we need?" Melody tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, the good news is we won't need to bleach the blonde parts again. But we'll need to be careful with the roots. I think our best bet is to get a purple dye that works well on both light and dark hair." She began selecting items from the shelves, explaining each choice as she went.
"This is the actual dye; it's a semi-permanent violet that should give her that rich purple she had before. We'll need gloves, a mixing bowl, an applicator brush... Oh, and this deep conditioning treatment for afterward. Hair dye can be pretty drying." Ryder was watching with rapt attention, as if memorising every detail for future reference. I found myself doing the same, determined to get this right. This wasn't just about hair colour; it was about giving Cade back a piece of her identity that had been stolen from her.
"What about these?" Ryder asked, holding up a pack of hair clips. "For sectioning or whatever it's called?" Melody beamed at him.
"Perfect! You're a natural at this, Ryder." He grinned, looking absurdly pleased with himself as he added the clips to our growing pile of supplies. "I've been watching my share of YouTube tutorials lately. You'd be surprised what you learn at three in the morning when you can't sleep." The comment was casual, but the implication hit me hard. Ryder, like all of us, had been struggling with insomnia since Cade's return, haunted by nightmares and what-ifs. But instead of withdrawing like Loganand I had done, he'd channelled his restless energy into caring for Cade in whatever ways he could.
Shame crept through me again, but I pushed it aside. This wasn't about my guilt; it was about Cade. About taking a small but meaningful step toward helping her heal. As Melody added a few more items to our collection, I pulled out my phone and started searching for hair dyeing tutorials, determined to supplement Melody's crash course with as much information as possible.
"You know I could just come over and do this for you guys," Melody offered, watching me scroll through videos with increasing anxiety.
"No," I said, perhaps too quickly. "I mean, thank you, but I think this is something we need to do ourselves. For Cade." Melody's expression softened with understanding.
"I get it. But seriously, don't stress too much. The process isn't that complicated, especially with the dye we're getting. Just remember: start with mid-lengths and ends, then work on the roots. And wear gloves, unless you want purple hands for the next week."
"Mid-lengths and ends first, then roots," Ryder repeated solemnly, as if committing a sacred oath to memory. "Got it."
We made our way to the checkout, where the cashier gave our eclectic collection of hair supplies and our very male selves a curious look but rang us up without comment. As Ryder paid, waving away my attempt to split the cost, I found myself feeling genuinely excited for the first time in weeks. This small act of camaraderie, of doing something concrete to help Cade rather than drowning in helpless guilt, felt like a lifeline pulling me back toward the surface. Outside, Melody helped us load our purchases into Ryder's boot, then pulled each of us into a quick hug.
"Let me know how it goes," she said, her eyes bright with emotion. "And tell Cade..." She paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Tell her we all miss her, and we're here whenever she's ready."
"We will," I promised, touched by her sincerity. Melody had been a steady presence throughout this entire ordeal, offering support without pressure, understanding without pity. In many ways, she'd been stronger than any of us Regents. As she walked back to her own car, Ryder clapped a hand on my shoulder, his expression more relaxed than I'd seen it in ages.
"This was a good idea, Cole," he said simply. "A really good idea."
The drive back to Covenant House was filled with a lightness that had been absent for too long. Ryder insisted on driving so I could continue researching hair dyeing techniques, and I found myself actually laughing at some of the horror stories people shared online.
"Listen to this one," I said, reading from a forum post. "'I left the bleach on too long and my hair literally melted off. MELTED. Now I look like a plucked chicken.'" Ryder snorted, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"We are not letting that happen to Cade. If we fuck this up and she ends up bald, I'm blaming you entirely."
"Hey, this was my idea," I protested, scrolling to find another post. "But the execution is a team effort. If she ends up with green hair instead of purple, that's on both of us."
"Green hair?" Ryder looked genuinely alarmed. "That can happen?"
"Apparently, if you use the wrong toner on yellow-blonde hair," I explained, showing him a particularly horrifying before-and-after photo at a red light. "But Melody picked everythingout, so we should be fine... right?" Ryder's confident expression faltered slightly.
"Maybe we should watch a few more tutorials just to be safe."
By the time we pulled into the driveway of Covenant House, we'd gone from mildly concerned to borderline paranoid about potential hair disasters. But beneath the nervous energy was a current of genuine excitement, the feeling of doing something meaningful, something that might bring a smile to Cade's face after so many weeks of pain.
"Do you think we should tell her tonight?" Ryder asked as we gathered the bags from the trunk. "Or surprise her tomorrow?" I considered this, trying to put myself in Cade's shoes.
"Tomorrow," I decided. "Let's set everything up tonight, make sure we have all the supplies ready, and know exactly what we're doing. Then we can offer it to her in the morning, give her something to look forward to." Ryder nodded, satisfied with this plan.
"Good call. And Cole?" His voice grew more serious. "You should be the one to tell her. This was your idea, and I think it would mean a lot coming from you. Show her that you still care, that you haven't given up on her." The words hit me like a physical blow, cutting through the momentary lightness and reminding me of the distance I'd put between myself and Cade. The way I'd been avoiding her, unable to face my own failures and the echoes of my past trauma that her suffering evoked.
"You're right," I said quietly, meeting his gaze. "I need to do better by her." Ryder's expression softened.
"We're all just doing our best, Cole. Even when our best is pretty fucking terrible."
We entered the house quietly, not wanting to disturb Cade and Luce if they were still downstairs. The living room was empty,though, and a note on the coffee table informed us that they'd gone up to Cade's room to watch a movie on her laptop.
"Perfect," Ryder whispered, gesturing toward the kitchen. "We can stash this stuff in the pantry for now." We worked in companionable silence, unpacking our purchases and arranging them in order of use based on the tutorials we'd watched. Old towels were set aside to protect Cade's clothes and the bathroom floor. Gloves were counted and recounted. The dye's instructions were read aloud, then read again silently, and finally photographed, just in case.
It was well past midnight by the time we finished, but I felt more at peace than I had in weeks. This small act of preparation, of planning something kind for Cade, had eased some of the crushing weight of guilt I'd been carrying.
"We should get some sleep," Ryder said, stifling a yawn. "Big day tomorrow." I nodded, suddenly aware of my own exhaustion.
