Page 118 of For Wrath and Redemption
Theo’s grave marker in our family mausoleum.
Images of Theo change to images of Claire. Claire, injured. Claire, sick and dying. Claire’s headstone.
Her phone goes to voicemail, and I want to fucking scream. Instead of leaving a message, I stick my phone back in my pocket and turn to leave.
“Where are you going? We’ve got soundcheck!” Sav calls after me. I wave a hand in the air, but I don’t stop walking.
“Do it without me. I’ll be back for the show.”
José takes me back to the hotel. I absently reach into my pocket twice for pills and come up empty. By the time I’m stepping into the elevator, both of my thumbs are bleeding, and my chest aches with panic.
Claire’s words from the other day hit me hard.I feel everything.
The moment I’m in the suite, I call her name. She doesn’t answer. I rush to the bedroom—maybe she’s sleeping—but I hear the shower running, so I change course. I don’t think. I don’t knock. I just open the bathroom door and walk in. Seeing her outline through the fogged-up shower door calms me slightly, but it’s not enough. I open the door and step right into the shower with her.
“Oh my God.” She whips around, eyes wide. Her hand splays over her chest and she pants. “Jonah. What are you doing?”
I look her over quickly, surveying every inch of her body. I ghost my hands over her wet skin. Looking for injury. Feeling for pain. She’s wearing some sort of shower cap, so I reach up and take it off her. There’s a small cut with two silver staples on her hairline. I try to touch it, but she wraps her hand around my wrist, stopping me.
“Careful. I’m not supposed to get it wet yet.”
I step closer, pressing her back into the tile wall. The shower hits my back, but she’s out of the stream. My clothes are soaked. My boots. I don’t care.I can’t take my eyes off her. Her face. The cut. The staples. I wrap my free hand around hers, just to keep myself from trying to touch it again.
I just need to feel her. I just need to know for sure that she’s unharmed. That she’s alive.
I feel everything.
“Does it hurt? Are you alright? What happened?”
Her brows furrow as her eyes bounce between mine. “It doesn’t hurt.” She reaches up and puts her hand on my cheek. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
I hate that word.Okay. What does it even fucking mean? Again, I flash back to Theo. Sick and dying in our living room.
Everything will be okay. I promise.
It wasn’t okay. He lied. It’s one big fucking lie.
I lean into Claire and close my eyes. I breathe in the hot air. It smells like lavender and sugar. Like her. Slowly, my muscles start to relax. I grab her hip and pull her into me. I run my hand up her back so I can cup her neck.
Questions dance on the tip of my tongue. Accusations.How did this happen? How could you be so reckless?But when I open my mouth, I give her the rawest, most vulnerable truth. She’s always pulling the most painful truths out of me. She doesn’t even have to try.
“I was scared. Mabel said you went to the hospital, and I panicked.”
My voice is strained with exhaustion. Less than an hour and I feel like I’ve run a marathon. The longer I hold her, the longer I breathe her in, the more my muscles relax. Tension bleeds steadily from my body, and all I have to do is hold her close.I feel everything.
“I’m sorry.” She rests her head on my chest. “I’m okay. It was nothing.”
“Did you eat before you ran?”
I feel her body tense. There’s a charged moment of silence. She doesn’t have to tell me. I know the answer already.
“I was just dehydrated from all the traveling. I need to remember to drink more water.”
I force a swallow, clamping my eyes shut. She lied to me. She doesn’t trust me with the truth, and I know what that means. I know because I lie all the fucking time.
I was right. I was right about the calorie counting, and the toothbrush, and the obsessive fucking workouts. Something is wrong.
And if she’s ashamed, it’s probably bad.
