Chapter 26 #2
We fell into a rhythm, Cole handing me clips and separating sections of hair, while Ryder kept up a steady stream of commentary and occasionally dabbed dye onto spots I'd missed.
It was messy and imperfect, but there was something deeply comforting about the simple human contact, about being touched with gentleness and care after so long living with the memory of cruel hands.
"Shit!" Ryder suddenly exclaimed, examining his hands. Despite the gloves, he'd somehow managed to stain his fingers a vivid purple. "How did that even happen?"
"You poked a hole in your glove with your nail, genius," Cole pointed out, trying and failing to suppress a smile.
"It's a good colour on you," I offered, which set Cole off into barely contained laughter.
"Not funny," Ryder grumbled, but his eyes were bright with amusement. "I have meetings next week. Important, serious meetings where I'll now have purple fingertips."
"Just tell them it's a fashion statement," I suggested. "Very avant-garde."
"Or wear gloves," Cole added practically. "Though that might raise more questions than the purple fingers."
We were all laughing then; the sound filling the small bathroom and spilling out into the hallway.
It felt good, this moment of normalcy, of shared humour.
For a brief, shining moment, we weren't victim and rescuers, we weren't broken people trying to hold each other together.
We were just three friends, making a mess and laughing about it.
Of course, that was when disaster struck.
Ryder, gesturing with the tint brush he'd reclaimed, sent a spray of purple dye arcing through the air.
Time seemed to slow as we watched it land with perfect precision on the pristine white armchair visible through the open bathroom door.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Oh shit," Ryder whispered, his face draining of colour. "Rosa is going to murder me."
"Murder us all," Cole corrected grimly. "Slowly and painfully."
As if summoned by the very thought of her name, Rosa appeared in the doorway, arms full of fresh towels. Her gaze travelled from our guilty faces to the purple splatter on her beloved furniture, and her expression darkened ominously.
"I leave you alone for twenty minutes," she began, her voice dangerously calm. "Twenty minutes! And you manage to-" She broke off, taking a deep breath. "I will skin you boys alive if that stain does not come out. And you will clean every speck of purple from this bathroom. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Cole and Ryder chorused, looking thoroughly chastened.
Rosa turned her attention to me then, her expression softening as she took in the partially dyed hair piled atop my head.
"But you, my sweet girl, you already look beautiful.
The purple suits you much better than that sad blonde.
" She set down her towels and gestured for the boys to move aside.
"Now, let me help you finish this properly before these two turn the entire house purple. "
Rosa's expert hands made quick work of the remaining application, and soon my head was covered in dye, a plastic cap secured over it to keep the colour processing.
As we waited for the dye to develop, I regaled her with the full story of the boys' hair-colouring attempts, exaggerating their ineptitude just enough to make her laugh while they cleaned up the bathroom under her watchful eye.
"They try very hard, these boys," Rosa said quietly during a moment when Cole and Ryder were arguing about the best way to remove a particularly stubborn stain from the tile. "They care for you very much." I nodded, watching their reflection in the mirror.
"I know," I replied softly. "Even when they don't know how to show it."
"Sometimes the trying is what matters most," she said, patting my shoulder gently. "Not the result."
When it was time to rinse, Rosa shooed the boys out of the bathroom, declaring that they had done enough damage for one day.
She helped me bend over the tub, her small hands strong and sure as she worked the dye from my hair, massaging my scalp with a gentleness that brought unexpected tears to my eyes.
"There, there," she murmured, misinterpreting my emotion.
"We're almost done. No need to cry." But it wasn't pain or discomfort that brought the tears.
It was the simple human kindness of her touch, the maternal care in her actions.
After so much cruelty and pain, the contrast was almost unbearable.
When the rinsing was complete, Rosa wrapped my hair in a towel and guided me back to the stool.
"Ready to see?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.
I nodded, my heart suddenly racing with a mixture of hope and fear.
What if it didn't work? What if I looked in the mirror and still saw that ghost, that broken thing that wasn't me?
Rosa removed the towel with a flourish, then combed through my damp hair, arranging it around my face.
"Look," she said simply, stepping back so I could see my reflection clearly.
The woman who stared back at me had vibrant purple hair, the colour rich and deep, just as it had been before.
The contrast against my pale skin was striking, making my blue eyes seem more intense, more alive.
It was like seeing an old friend after a long absence, familiar and yet somehow new.
"It's perfect," I whispered, reaching up to touch a strand as if to confirm it was real. "It's exactly right." Rosa beamed with pride.
"Of course it is. Now, shall we show the boys their handiwork? They will be very proud, I think." I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
As I stood, I caught sight of my full reflection in the mirror and paused, struck by the transformation.
It wasn't just my hair. There was something different in my posture, a straightening of my shoulders that hadn't been there before.
A tiny spark of the old Cade, the one who had fought and survived and refused to be broken, even when bent almost beyond recognition.
I found Cole and Ryder in the living room.. They looked up as I entered, and the expressions that crossed their faces made my heart swell with an emotion I hadn't felt in far too long, joy.
"Holy shit," Ryder breathed, his eyes wide. "You look..."
"Amazing," Cole finished, his voice soft with wonder. "Absolutely amazing." I touched my hair self-consciously, suddenly shy under their intense gazes.
"It turned out pretty well, considering neither of you had any idea what you were doing."
"We had supervision," Ryder said with a grin, gesturing to Rosa, who stood in the doorway, arms crossed but with a fond expression. "And excellent taste in colour."
"And a very patient model," Cole added, his eyes never leaving my face. There was something in his gaze that made my breath catch, a warmth and admiration that I'd thought might be lost forever after what had happened.
"Thank you," I said, looking between them.
"Both of you. For doing this. For... for seeing what I needed, even when I couldn't ask for it.
" Ryder crossed the room to stand before me, his hands hovering near my arms as if seeking permission to touch.
When I nodded slightly, he placed his hands gently on my shoulders, his touch light but grounding.
"We set up a movie," he said, nodding toward the television where the menu screen for one of my favourite films was paused. "If you're up for it. Nothing heavy, just... normal. Popcorn, blankets, the whole deal."
"We thought maybe a quiet day in might be nice," Cole explained, his voice carefully neutral, giving me space to refuse if I needed to.
"Just the three of us." I looked at the cosy setup they'd arranged, pillows and blankets piled on the couch, snacks on the coffee table, the familiar comfort of a movie I'd seen a dozen times.
Such a simple thing, and yet it felt like a lifeline thrown into deep water.
"That sounds perfect," I said, meaning it more than they could know.
I settled between them on the couch, Ryder's arm draped casually over the back cushion, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel his warmth.
Cole sat a bit more stiffly on my other side, but as the movie began, I felt him gradually relax, his body shifting imperceptibly closer to mine.
About halfway through the film, I found myself drifting, not quite asleep but in that peaceful state between waking and dreaming.
My head found Cole's shoulder without conscious thought, and after a moment's hesitation, I felt his arm come around me, holding me gently.
On my other side, Ryder had slumped down until his head rested against mine, his breathing deep and even.
I wasn't healed. The scars on my body and soul were still raw, still painful.
The nightmares would still come, and there would be days when getting out of bed felt impossible.
Damien was still out there somewhere, a shadow looming over my future.
But in that moment, surrounded by warmth and care and the simple pleasure of a familiar movie, I felt more like myself than I had in months.
"Thank you," I whispered, not sure if either of them was awake to hear me. "For bringing me back."