My ring slips off too easily. It's cold out now, my fingers are shrunken, my skin is tighter still, stretched across my bones in a tension he can tune with a fork and a very good ear.
He frowns, picking it up from the bottom of the tub. We'll get it re-sized for you, he said, sticking it down over my middle finger instead. It's fine there for now, a subtle fuck you to the universe, an easy dismissal of the rest of the world outside of his extended reach.
He lets the frown slide away and puts his hand on my forehead as I lean back against him in the warm water. I put a bath bomb in with us. We smell like jasmine. We're covered with purple glitter. It's a far better moment than some of the previous week and I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He leans around from my left to see my face.
Okay?
I nod but I don't say anything. A kiss lands on the top of my head. Then he is gone. Cold rushes in to coat my skin and I shiver violently.
Let's go.
I nod again but I don't move and he reaches down, pulling the plug out of the bottom of the tub. I sink down until my head goes under, making no move to resurface. He reaches down once more to pull me up gently. I emerge covered head to toe with glitter and he laughs.
Rinse off in the shower. We've got twenty minutes to be downstairs.
I dutifully duck under the hot spray and when I emerge, still mostly covered with shiny tinies he is there with a warm towel, wrapping me in it, glancing another kiss off my forehead, arms tight around me. I shiver again but it's not from the cold, more like from survival and surprise that I'm here.
***
I watch him stir his coffee. He'll lay the spoon upside down against the edge of the plate and let his eyes travel the whole way around the restaurant before he speaks. I'm not wrong. I've studied Lochlan's movements since I was eight and he was thirteen, since before coffee, and violence and baggage. I've watched him change and yet he remains the same as always. He doesn't actually change. He forces the entire world to adapt to him. He refuses to compromise or bend. His will is iron, his code of right and wrong carved in the rusted metal of a platform for a thrill ride, or in the words of a verbal contract with a handshake to seal the deal. There's no reason to question him, for he's never had even a moment of grey area. No ethical pause, no consideration of less than what is good and what isn't.
I didn't listen. I ran ahead or fell behind. I had my head in the clouds, pretending all the time. He indulged me because one thing that was right to him was the desire to make me happy. He went along with it. He humored me when I couldn't remember the rules or didn't hear the orders. He was lenient, full of grace when he should have lifted me off the ground by the collar of my dress long enough to make sure I was paying attention.
I got burned and by default he did too.
Some days we're unscathed. Lucky. Beautiful and new.
Other days we are burned beyond recognition. Disfigured and ruined.
This is an in-between day, in which the scars are visible to the naked eye but they're a little numb, that's all. A little closed-feeling, a little bit forgotten, if you're not paying attention. A little bit better.
I think we should go. I think we should go now. And if you won't then he has to.
I can't banish him.
At this point you don't have any veto powers here. Not anymore.
I stop running down the path in the waning light and turn and look back at him. I drop the trilliums I have picked on the carpet of pine needles coating the forest floor. Something in his voice is different this time and it scares me.
