My stomach clenches as I unbutton his pants, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. I’m thankful I didn’t eat earlier—I wouldn’t have been able to keep the food down.
My breath stalls in my chest.
A new tattoo marks his flesh. It’s healed wrong, like his body is rejecting it and is trying to push it out. My nostrils flare as Itake in the rest of the snake that was hidden under his clothes—shaded black with slashes of red throughout that make it hard to tell if it’s blood or the color of the ink.
It starts mid-thigh, curling over his hip and up his back, the head positioned just below his jaw, mouth opened with fangs and forked tongue out.
My hands start to shake, and I will myself to calm down. I have to stay calm for Graylen, have to be here for him and not let the rage coursing through my body take over.
“In the tub,” I croak.
At first, I don’t think he hears me, but then his body moves slowly, and he steps into the water. Steam rises off of the surface, the herbs scattering on ripples as he sinks down.
The bath is scalding, but he doesn’t flinch—doesn’t blink or even seem to notice its warmth. He just sits in the center, his knees pulled to his chest.
Looking at him—the man who agreed to fake an engagement with me before he knew who I was, the person who became someone I could rely on to get me out of my own head when things got overwhelming—makes me realize just how far I would go to save him. To avenge him.
I grab the fresh cloth I draped over the tub and scrub the oily bar of soap onto it until it suds. Lemon balm fills my nose.
We sit in silence as I start with his shoulders and upper back, gently scrubbing away the dirt and dried blood that he missed when bathing in the creek. I linger long after it’s clean, gently rubbing until the muscles in his neck slowly release.
Every scar I run the cloth over stirs the fury within me deeper. There are so many—ones that look as if they’ve been there for ages, even though I’m certain they weren’t there before.
Moving to his arms, I take my time with each one. Running the soapy rag over each finger, scrubbing the dirt away from beneath his nails. His gaze remains unfocused on the water the entire time, and I wish more than anything that I could pull his thoughts away from wherever it is that he’s gone.
But I know that he’ll come to me when he’s ready.
I gently wash his face, each movement slow and light. It’s then that I realize there are tears flowing down his emotionless face. My chest tightens, and I wipe those away too, trading the cloth for my hands and catching each one that falls onto his cheeks.
His eyes drag up to mine, still distant but a little more aware. He gives me a soft smile, and it cleaves my heart in two.
“Lean your head back for me,”I send into his mind, afraid the words won’t reach him otherwise.
Graylen gives me a small nod and does as I ask, a weight on my chest lifting as I see life slowly returning to his gaze.
Using just my hands, I lather soap onto my palms and sink my fingers into his hair. Water splashes on my clothes and drips onto the floor, but I don’t care. There are still remnants of dirt—or dried blood, I can’t be sure—on the back of his head.
Even long after I’m certain I’ve cleaned his hair thoroughly, I don’t stop. His eyes drift closed, and his forehead smooths out.
I don’t know how to help him if I don’t know what he’s feeling or thinking. I’ve never been the person someone goes to for comfort, and the thought of learning to soften my jagged edges makes my stomach turn.
Sourness fills my mouth, and my lips press together as the one thing I fear most bubbles up. What if I’m not enough for him? Enough to help bring him out of this?
I swallow down the bitter taste of the thought.
“Talk to me,” I plead with him, desperate to do something to help.
His throat bobs, but his eyes stay closed. Silence follows my words; the only sound is the trickling of water as I continue running my fingers through strands of his dark hair.
The longer the quiet stretches out, the more my chest tightens.
“It’s too much,” he whispers finally, his voice broken.
My heart sinks.
“What is?” I press, afraid of pushing too hard. Or not enough.
Graylen squeezes his eyes shut tighter, crinkling the skin at their corners. He doesn’t answer me, and this time I don’t push him. My heart begins to thrash against my ribcage as my pulse speeds up, my biggest fear circling my mind in his silence.
