Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
KASS
Once I’m all showered, I step out to run the bath while Blake waits on the seat in the shower.
When it’s half full, I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the tub. As we both settle in, the water rises almost to the top. She turns to sit across from me and drapes her legs over mine. It’s so tempting to lean forward and touch her again, but we’re both spent.
Instead, I opt to rub her legs. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sinks back against the tub.
As I rub her legs, I admire the artwork scattered across her skin. They’re hard to completely make out under the rippling water, but I can tell they were done by talented artists. “When did you get your first tattoo?”
Without opening her eyes, she responds, “Professional or unsanitary stick and poke?”
“Professional.”
“When I was 17.”
“Your mom signed for it then?” I'm half expecting her to say she used a fake ID or got some sketchy artist to do it who doesn't care so much about the law.
“Yeah. She knew I would find a way to get it regardless of whether I had her permission or not, so she figured she might as well be there to make sure I didn’t get something totally outrageous.”
“Fair enough. Which one is it?”
She shifts in the water, making it splash dangerously close to the edge. She lifts her leg out to expose the back of her calf and points to a tattoo that’s the size of a deck of cards.
“A pop tart?”
“Yep.”
I lean in toward her leg and bite the tattoo.
“Ahh!” She squeals and rips her leg away from me. “Jerk.”
“Sorry, it was just too tempting.”
“What was your first tattoo?”
“Professional or unsanitary stick and poke?” I say, mocking her earlier question.
She narrows her eyes at me, trying to hide her amusement. “Professional.”
I lift my arm and twist it, so the underside of my bicep is facing her. My hand grazes over the inked skin there, and my mind slips back to that day.
“A flower?”
“Mhm. A Daisy.”
“What, is that your mom’s birthday month flower or something?” She asks it in a mocking tone.
I don’t take offense to it because she has no way of knowing. We don’t talk about Clover, so why would Daisy ever come up?
“No. Clover’s mom is named Daisy.”
She’s quiet. Too quiet, so I peel my eyes away from the tattoo to look at her. Is she uncomfortable with me talking about another woman? That wouldn’t make much sense, given she literally shared me with her friend earlier today.
I rest my arm on the edge of the tub. The tattoo for Daisy is still exposed to her, and I can see her glancing at it.
“Is that her birthdate under it?”
“No. It’s uhh…it’s the day she died.”
“Oh.”
If she wasn’t uncomfortable before, then she’s definitely uncomfortable now. But I wasn’t about to lie to her. If she ever looked at it closer, she’d realize that the year on the date is only a couple of years ago. She likely can’t see it that clearly from where she sits.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Clover never said…”
“It’s okay. I figured you didn’t know. Clover doesn’t really like talking about it too much.”
“Understandable.”
I put my hands back in the water and set them on her legs. “I don’t want you to feel bad for wanting to know more about me.”
She nods. “Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“Were you guys ever married?”
“No. That’s why Clover has a different last name than I do. Daisy insisted she take hers instead of mine. I didn’t put up much of a fight. I think it’s kind of weird that children always take their dad’s name, especially when the moms tend to be the ones to stick around.”
“I never thought about you guys having different last names. That’s probably why I didn’t even think to make the connection between you two. And the different hair color.”
She seems to be getting more comfortable now, but just to be safe, I pick up her leg, set it in front of me, and start rubbing her foot.
“Were you two together? Like living together or dating?”
“No. We lived separately, and our relationship was really complicated. We were sort of off and on for years. We were together when she got pregnant, but she didn’t want to be tied to me just because we had a baby together.
I think it was more an act of rebellion rather than her actually not wanting to be with me.
I know that sounds bad, but I truly believe that. She hated social norms.”
“I like her.” Blake smiles. “Were you always active in Clover’s life, or was it mostly after her mom died?”
“I’ve always spent a ton of time with Clover. Daisy and I had shared custody, and we co-parented really well together, so the three of us spent a lot of time as a family despite us not being together.”
“Clover’s very lucky.” She tenses immediately after she says that. “That was a dumb thing to say. Obviously, she’s not lucky that her mom died.”
“I know what you meant. She was super lucky to have parents who got along.”
She pulls her foot away from me and swaps it for the other one.
“Do you mind if I ask how she died?”
I shake my head. “She was in a car accident. A drunk driver hit her car.”
She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“It was pretty awful.” Tears sting my eyes. I look up to the ceiling and blink to get rid of them before they can fall.
“I know.”
When I look back down, her whole demeanor has changed. She’s looking down at the water with a blank stare.
I squeeze her foot to get her attention. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah.” She nods her head and wipes her wet hand down her face.
When she looks up again, her face is wet, and her eyes are a little red. Is she trying to hide the fact that she was crying?
“What’s up, Blake? Talk to me.”
“Nothing. I’m totally fine. Just sad for you and Clover. And I’m exhausted.”
I eye her skeptically. “I don’t buy it.”
“Well, there's nothing for sale.” She looks at the wall beside her, avoiding my gaze.
I squeeze her foot again, this time harder. It gets her attention. “Hey. I was vulnerable with you. It’s your turn now.”
“What? You think I’m avoiding telling you something?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“We played that question card game for several hours last night and today. I was a completely open book. Why would I hide something from you now?”
“Because you’d be letting your guard down if you told me something vulnerable.”
“You don’t call me spilling all my dirty secrets letting my guard down?”
"No.”
She glares at me like I just insulted her.
“There's a difference between being open and honest versus letting your guard down. You can share all your secrets that get a laugh out of others, but until you let someone in here.” I lean forward and tap her chest.
She pushes my hand away. "Don't be cheesy."
"I'm not. If you aren't able to let people see the vulnerable parts of you, the parts that you don't share with everyone so freely, then you're not letting your guard down. Was there a single story that you told during those games that you haven't told ten other people?"
“I don’t know.” She's being dismissive, really trying to change the subject.
I’m not letting her off that easily, but I know I have to be gentle with her. Blake pretends to be all tough, and maybe she is, but when it comes to this kind of stuff, she’s scared.
I put her foot to the side again and grab her thighs. I pull her toward me until she’s straddling my lap. I hear water splash over the edge of the tub with the motion, but I don't care.
“Please tell me. Something. Anything.”
For the first time in the last few minutes, she looks into my eyes. I can see her fear. Fear of being vulnerable. I wrap my arms around her to make her feel safe. I feel this desperate need to have her trust me. The rope scene was the first step, but I need something from her that’s not physical.
I’d kill to be one of the few people that Blake trusts with the secrets she keeps locked deep inside. Secrets that maybe her friends don’t even know about. We all have them.
She takes a deep breath and swallows hard. “One thing.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“Someone I loved died in a car accident, too.”
My chest tightens at the thought of Blake feeling even a fraction of the pain I felt when I lost Daisy.
“Who?”
“A boy from my high school. His name was Harlen.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen. We were freshmen.”
“I’m so sorry, Blake.” My hand instinctively starts running up and down her back.
Her eyes fill with tears, and I can tell she’s fighting them with everything she has.
“Was he your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” I wait for her to continue. “I mean, we were dating like fifteen-year-olds date. You know what being fifteen is like.”
“It was a long time ago, but I do believe I was fifteen once.” She cracks a smile, which is exactly what I was hoping for. I can’t stand to see her so sad.
“Want to know the dumbest part?”
“Sure.”
She huffs a laugh. “If you’ve looked at my social media at all, you’d know that I've had crazy colored hair for a long time.”
“I may have creeped a little.”
“Well, I dyed it for the first time when I was fifteen and haven’t had it a natural hair color since.”
“What color was it?”
“Blue. And I absolutely destroyed my hair trying to bleach it myself. My mom had to come to the rescue. Funny thing is, she had no idea I was dying my hair.”
We both chuckle at the thought of fifteen-year-old Blake doing something rebellious.
“The embarrassing part is that I dyed it for him.” She breaks eye contact at the mention of him.
She’s staring down at my chest, tapping her fingers on my collarbone.
“He told me he thought I would look really good with colored hair, that it would match my personality. I was going to surprise him at school the next day, but he never showed up.”
My throat swells with unshed tears as my heart breaks for little Blake and adult Blake, who clearly isn't over this. Her fingers continue tapping on my chest until I cover them with mine, but she still won’t look at me.
“That had to be incredibly hard.”
“Yeah…” Her voice is nothing more than a whisper.
“I appreciate you sharing that with me.”
“I’ve never talked with anyone about it before.”
“Not even your mom or your sister?”
“They obviously know. But no, I’ve never actually talked about it like this. I just shut myself in my room for months until people stopped asking if I was okay.”
I pull her into my chest and hold her. She doesn’t sob, she just lets me hold her. I think she's gotten so used to numbing herself to the pain she feels when she thinks about him. And I completely get it. I was the same way with Daisy.