“You’re not fine.” I fumble with the keys, my hands still shaking from everything that’s happened. “And we both know it.”
Koda winces as we step inside. His free hand presses against his ribs.
“Just need to clean up. Then I’ll be good as new.”
“Right.” I guide him toward the bathroom, noting how carefully he moves, how he favors his left side. “Because that’s exactly how injuries work.”
“Are you being sarcastic with me right now?”
Despite his pain, there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Maybe a little.”
I flip on the bathroom light, immediately wishing I hadn’t when the harsh fluorescent bulb reveals the full extent of the damage.
The bathroom light casts harsh shadows across Koda’s battered face as I help him onto the closed toilet lid.
Blood has dried in dark streaks down his chin and neck. The stains mar the collar of his shirt. His right eye is swollen nearly shut, and a nasty cut above it still oozes.
My hands tremble as I wet a washcloth with warm water.
This is my fault. All of it.
My father’s fists connecting with Koda’s body. The friendship shattered in that hallway. The impossible choice hanging over us like a storm cloud.
“Hold still,” I whisper, gently pressing the cloth to his split lip.
Koda winces but remains motionless. His good eye follows my movements.
I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. Can’t bear to see the pain I’ve caused reflected there.
“We should go to the hospital.” I rinse the cloth and watch pink water swirl down the drain. “That cut needs stitches. And your ribs?—”
“I’m fine.” His voice comes out rough. Each word is clearly painful. “Better here with you than in some ER.”
I open the first aid kit with shaking fingers.
“This will sting,” I warn, dabbing antiseptic on the cut above his eye.
Koda doesn’t flinch.
His massive body, usually so powerful and invincible, looks vulnerable under the harsh bathroom light. Purple bruises bloom across his jaw and cheekbone.
His knuckles remain unmarked.
The most damning evidence that he never once defended himself against my father’s rage.
“Please reconsider the hospital.” I apply a butterfly bandage to the worst cut. “What if something’s broken inside? What if?—”
“Charlotte.” He catches my wrist as I reach for another antiseptic wipe. His grip is gentle despite his battered hands. “Stop.”
The simple command breaks something inside me.
Tears flood my eyes and spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. I bite my lip hard and try to hold back the sob building in my chest.
“I’m so sorry.” The words come out choked, inadequate. “This is all my fault. If I had just told him sooner, or if we’d?—”
Koda’s hand releases my wrist to cup my cheek. His thumb catches a falling tear.