There’s something therapeutic about dishes clanking and utensils scraping across plates while you’re sitting in a booth, watching steam billow up from a mug of hot coffee. It satisfies thesoul. Even a deeply corrupted one like mine.
We all know by now that I’m a wizard.
But it doesn’t take one to know that they were starving her, evenifI heard that wanker tell her that she’d have to fuck if she wanted dinner. The fact that the girls in that hell house were probably denied it for much longer than Bridget…makes me want to have a chance to kill them all over again. She’s eating like it’s beendays. I averted my eyes, lest I lose my unholy shit and go on an Irish rampage.
I need a diversion.
“Did you know…waffles used to be simple wafers for religious rites back in medieval times?” I asked. She looked up from her trough and lowered her brows while she chewed. “It wasn’t even called a waffle back then. That was a Dutch term that started stickin’, and the French even made their batter withwine. We didn’t even know about one of the most divine breakfast staples in the world until it was brought to the Americas in the 1600’s. Crazy, right? I wonder if they ever thought it would evolve like this, hundreds of years later.”
Bridget tried to hold in her laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”
I pushed my glasses up with a middle finger.
“Just think…all these years…and the poor waffle gets completely downgraded by emo kids that sanctified this place as their domain to paint their nails black, drink coffee and talk about pain.”
Egg flew out of her mouth when she burst out laughing and it landed on one of my lenses. “Sev would gladly chip that black polish on yourfaceif she heard you say that shit, Declan.”
I smiled while I cleaned off my glasses. “I bet she wrote some mean poetry in her teenage years.”
“Stopppp,”she laughed, covering her mouth in shame. “You’re horrible.”
“Yeah, well…doesn’t make me love her any less. She’s texted me about eighty times this morning. She’s about to die to see you.”
Bridge chewed slower. “Where are they?”
“Hospital. With Miss Ruth.”
“Oh, my God…howisshe? Is she okay?”
I nodded and took a generous sip from my mug. “She’s great. Not even in the intensive care unit anymore. I’m sure she’d like to see you too.”
Things got quiet and she stopped eating altogether, lowering her hands into her lap. “I dunno if that’s a good idea. I’m the reason she’s in there. I’m the reason Leviticus is in shambles.”
“You’re also the reason she’s alive, along with a dozen young girls and none of them have to look over their shoulder for danger anymore. Ruth included. Nobody blames you, Bridge. Bad people do bad shit. It could have happened to anyone for any reason. You were just a name on a long list, love. They know that. And the Grey’s would never hold that against you.”
She stared down at her plate for a long moment, and then looked up, offering me a tight smile. “Let’s go.”
The hospital is quiet today. At least this area, anyway. I haven’t been since they’d moved Miss Ruth. Bridget clutched her arms, gripping the life out of her favorite red sweater while I asked the nurse which room to go in. The door was closed and Igave it a couple knuckles before glancing down to see my lassie ready to retch scrambled eggs.
“Do you trust me?” I whispered, earning her attention. She wants to say no. I can see it. But she gnawed her lip and nodded. There were about two milliseconds between Seven opening that door, and the ‘oof’ that left Bridget’s lungs when she tackled her, wrapping her arms as tight as they’d go. This is what she needs. This is what heals.Us.
“Bridget?”
We all slowly turned our heads towards Ruth, who pushed her tray of food away and stared earnestly past me to see her. Sev stepped out of the way.
“I—I’m…”
“Come here, sweetheart…”
Ruth reached her arms out and Bridget’s eyes filled while Sev softly shut them inside and tugged my arm to give them time alone. We walked back down the hallway, and she kept her voice low, peeking around to make sure we didn’t have an audience.
“Has she told you anything?”
I stared at my feet and shook my head. “Not a word. She says it other ways, though. They did somethin’ to her.”
“The girls aren’t talking either. It’s like some unspoken pact between all of ‘em to keep us safe. There must have been a dozen cops up here last night, asking them who brought them here and how they got out.”
“How’d you dodge that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
