"Yeah. And Ryder? Thanks for going along with this. For not thinking it was stupid." He looked at me for a long moment, his expression serious.
"Nothing that helps her heal is stupid, Cole. Nothing." As I made my way up to my room, I paused outside Cade's door. Soft light spilled from beneath it, and I could hear the faint murmur of voices, Luce and Cade, still awake despite the late hour. I raised my hand, tempted to knock, to go in and tell Cade about our plan right now, to see her face light up with anticipation. But no. Better to wait until morning, when I could approach her with clear eyes and a steady voice, when I could offer her this small gift properly.
"Goodnight, Cade," I whispered to the closed door, too softly for her to hear. "Tomorrow will be better. I promise."
Iwoke up momentarily shocked at my surroundings, before realising where I was. For a moment, I lay perfectly still, cataloging the sounds of the house, the distant hum of the heating system, the occasional creak of old wood settling, the soft whisper of my own breath. These small, ordinary things had become my anchors in the weeks since my return, remindersthat I was here, safe, no longer in that cold, dark cell where the only sounds had been my own muffled cries and the footsteps of the man who had held me captive.
After Luce had left last night, I'd found myself unable to face my bedroom with its too-soft mattress and too-quiet atmosphere. Instead, I had come back down to the living room and curled up on the living room sofa, wrapped in the thick throw blanket that smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the lingering scent of whoever had used it last. Maybe Cole, I thought, burying my nose deeper into the fabric, seeking some trace of his comforting presence even as the man himself kept his distance.
I must have drifted off again, because the next thing I knew, there was a commotion at the entrance to the living room, hushed voices, the rustle of plastic bags, and then laughter, bright and unexpected in the morning quiet. My eyes snapped open, heart instantly racing, before my brain caught up and recognised the voices.
"Shh, you'll wake her," Cole whispered, followed by Ryder's amused snort.
"I think that ship has sailed," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "Morning, Poison." I pushed myself up to a sitting position, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as I took in the sight before me. Cole and Ryder stood in the doorway, their arms laden with shopping bags and what appeared to be a tray of drinks and pastries. Both wore expressions that hovered somewhere between excitement and nervousness, like children planning a surprise they weren't entirely sure would be well-received.
"What's going on?" I asked, my voice still rough with sleep. I ran a hand through my hair, grimacing at the limp, faded strands that fell across my fingers. Cole stepped forward, settinghis bags down carefully on the coffee table. There was something different about him today, a lightness I hadn't seen in weeks. The shadows under his eyes were still there, but his gaze held mine steadily, without the guilt and pain that usually made him look away.
"We," he announced with a dramatic flourish toward the bags, "are your official beauty assistants for the day."
I stared at him blankly, not comprehending. Ryder grinned, setting down his own burden and extracting a box from one of the bags. He held it up triumphantly, and I felt something catch in my throat as I read the label:Violet Vixen Hair Dye.
"We're dyeing your hair back to purple," Ryder explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "If you want to, I mean." I looked between them, searching for signs that this was some kind of joke. But all I saw was earnest hope in their expressions, a tentative offering that went far beyond hair dye.
"You want to dye my hair?" I repeated, still struggling to process this unexpected development. "You two? Have either of you ever even coloured hair before?" Cole's cheeks flushed slightly.
"Well, no. But we've watched about fifteen tutorials, and Melody helped us pick out all the right supplies." He began unpacking the bags, revealing an impressive array of bottles, brushes, gloves, and towels. "We've got everything we need. Developer, dye, conditioner, these clip things for sectioning..." He held up a package of hair clips with a look of such intense concentration that I almost laughed.
"And breakfast," Ryder added, pushing a coffee and a chocolate croissant toward me. "Fuel for the transformation." I reached for the coffee automatically, wrapping my fingers around the warm cup as if it might anchor me to this surreal moment. They had gone out and bought hair dye for me. Hadstayed up watching tutorials. Had planned this whole thing just because…
"I overheard you talking to Luce yesterday," Cole admitted quietly, his eyes meeting mine with a gentleness that made my chest ache. "About your hair. About how important it was to you." A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow.
"You did this for me?" I whispered, hating how my voice trembled. Ryder dropped to a crouch beside the couch, bringing himself to my eye level. "We'd do a lot more than dye hair for you, Cade," he said, all traces of his usual playfulness gone. "This is just... a start. Something small we can actually do to help." I looked at the array of supplies spread across the coffee table, then back at their hopeful faces. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt something other than fear or numbness or pain. Something warm and fragile, like the first spark of a fire catching on kindling.
"You realise you're probably going to make a complete mess of this," I said, but there was a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth, small but real. Cole's answering grin was like the sun breaking through clouds.
"Almost certainly. But we're very determined."
"And moderately competent," Ryder added with a wink. "At least according to the YouTube algorithm." I took a sip of my coffee, considering them both. These men who had once been my manipulators, then my protectors, who had hurt me and saved me and failed me in countless ways. Who were now standing before me with hair dye and pastries, offering a piece of myself back to me.
"Okay," I said finally, setting down my cup with newfound determination. "Let's do it."
The bathroom off the living room had been transformed into what I could only describe as a beauty salon designed by peoplewho had no idea what a beauty salon actually looked like—old towels covered every surface, including the floor. Bottles and tubes were arranged in what I assumed was intended to be a logical order, but looked more like organised chaos. Cole stood in the centre of it all, reading from a printed list of instructions with the intensity of a general planning a battle strategy.
"So we need to section your hair first," he was saying, squinting at the paper. "Four quadrants, secured with clips. Then we mix the dye and developer in a 1:2 ratio-"
"Not on my good towels!" Rosa's voice rang out from the doorway, making all three of us jump. The housekeeper stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the scene with a mixture of horror and resignation. "Christ above, what are you boys thinking?"
"We're helping Cade dye her hair," Ryder explained, already wearing plastic gloves that were comically large on his hands. "We've got everything under control." Rosa's skeptical expression made it clear that she believed otherwise. She stepped into the bathroom, eyeing the supplies with the practiced assessment of someone who had cleaned up more than her fair share of messes in this house.
"You will ruin the tiles," she declared, snatching a towel from the floor and repositioning it. "And your clothes. And probably the young lady's hair." She looked at me then, her stern expression softening. "Though I must say, purple would be nice to see again. It suited you." I smiled at her, touched by her concern.
"They're determined to try, Rosa. I think we all need this." She studied my face for a moment, then nodded decisively.
"I will get more towels. And old shirts for you boys to wear. This will be a disaster." But there was a fondness in her voice that took any sting out of her words.
As Rosa bustled off to gather more protective coverings, I settled onto the stool they had positioned in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, pale and tired-looking, my faded hair hanging limply around my face. I barely recognised myself.
"Are you sure about this?" Cole asked quietly, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "We don't have to if you're not ready."
