I blink my eyes open and stare down through the water. The witch Band-Aid has floated away, and through the murky water I spy my side, bare of any mark. Like the injury never occurred.
It worked.
And as if they could hear my realization—or maybe they heard my gasp of surprise—there’s a pounding of a fist on the other side of the door.
19
GRIFFITH
It’s weird,hanging out in my bedroom with my best friend, knowing his little sister is on the other side of a closed door, taking a bath. And while this is happening, I’m doing my best not to let on how much I wish I were on her side of the door.
“You seem agitated. You worried she’s going to drown herself?” Carl says this with an attempt at a joke in his voice, but I can tell he is on edge, like I am.
“Just wanna know if it’s going to work.” My voice is too growly, but I can’t seem to smooth it out.
He nods in agreement, and then we slip back into silence as we sit next to each other on my massive bed.
We should talk. Say something, just so my mind can focus on us rather than what’s going on in my bathroom. Because as the quiet persists, I can’t help imagining Clementine stripping off her clothes. Testing the water with her hand. Slipping her naked body into the warm liquid. Gods, I can smell the fragrance through the door. Both the scent of the potion and Clementine’s delicious vanilla-hibiscus aroma.
I try to casually rest my hands on my lap, hoping Carl doesn’t notice.
Think of anything other than a wet, naked Clementine.
So, morbid as it is, I focus on her wound. I throw my mind back to that night she appeared in my bar, her snarky mouth going, the subtle scent of iron hanging around her, which should’ve been the warning. And then when I busted in on that restroom and saw the way her flesh was ripped open, blood seeping from the exposed tissue.
All arousal fades as I think of the pain she experienced and how it’s still there. How we don’t know if this potion will fix her. How we don’t know how long the witch Band-Aids will continue to last if this isn’t a solution.
Then I hear it. A little gasp.
I can’t stop myself from lurching to my feet and knocking on the door.
Need to know she’s safe.
“It’s working!” Clementine calls out.
The words take a moment to register, and I barely stop myself before I reach for the handle. But, gods, do I want to open it. I want proof that her skin is healed. That her body isn’t dying.
Thatshe’snot dying.
“You’re sure?” Carl is at my side, yelling his question at the closed door. “You’re not bleeding anymore?”
Instead of a response, there’s the sound of splashing water and slapping footsteps. A moment later, the door wrenches open, and there’s Clementine with a towel wrapped around her waist and a washcloth held over her breasts as she drips water all over the carpet in my room. But I don’t care because there is her bare midriff, completely healed. Not even a scar remains.
My knees momentarily go weak, and I brace my hand on the wall to keep myself upright. Relief has made me boneless. Carl lets out a half sob, half shout of joy, and he gathers Clementineinto his arms, not caring that she soaks through his T-shirt and jeans in the process.
She lets out her own laughing cry as she hugs Carl back with one arm while still holding the towel to her chest.
“I’m okay now. It’s all okay. You don’t need to worry anymore.” Her voice is soft as she whispers this to her brother.
That’s when I realize Carl is quietly crying as he holds his sister. And it hits me just how terrified he has been these past few weeks. I knew logically, but here it is. Proof that my best friend’s heart has been breaking, as he knew there might be something he couldn’t save Clementine from.
The way they love each other is a beautiful thing. And there’s an ache in my chest because I want to be able to share in that love. The small family they have—I want to be part of that. I’ve never known how being loved like that feels.
“Gods, Carl. You’re drenched now.” Clementine takes a step back, and there’s almost a perfect outline of her body soaked into Carl’s clothes.
He huffs out a laugh, wiping at his eyes and smiling, like the damp fabric doesn’t bother him in the least.
“Yeah. Guess I didn’t think about that.” He rubs a hand over his tired face. “I’ll get changed. Maybe you should get back in the bath for a bit longer. Just in case.” He nudges her toward the healing potion. “Later, we need to go out to dinner and celebrate.”
