11. Ozzy
ELEVEN
ozzy
A little girl with red hair sings on the TV about building a snowman while Mae beams along, knowing every word and standing in front of it like she’s a part of the movie.
Bay is sitting on the couch, staring down at the newly acquired ink on her forearm, void of any expression, and has been silent for over an hour.
Not once has she shown any sign of herself. She made sure the girls ate, but she didn’t. Torin’s words rang loudly in my ear that she needed to, but I didn’t see a need to push her.
Eventually, she’ll pick at something. But right now, she’s as calm as she has been since the news of Wallace’s death. I don’t want to trigger her temper when she’s obviously not starving, and I’ll cross that bridge if I need to.
Right now, I’m content that she’s sitting where I can see her. She hasn’t tried to leave. It’s kept my own anxiety down because she doesn’t seem to mind my company, but I make sure to stay out of her sight so it doesn’t provoke anything.
She has another appointment with the tattoo artist today. He penciled her in for after hours when I threw him a handful of hundred-dollar bills and told him to ask her if she wanted to come in.
Bay jumped at the chance.
However, I don’t know how she’s getting there and it’s been gnawing at me since.
Walking out of the house means she might do something. She might change her mind. That could put her in danger.
I’ve played around with the idea of inviting myself, but that didn’t go well with Cairo yesterday, and it’s not my style. Regardless, she’s not going alone. Whether it’s me, Cairo, or The Nameless, someone will be there, but I don’t trust anyone else besides my brothers to watch for any reckless moves she might make.
The front door opens, and my palm immediately goes to my Glock resting in the waistband of my jeans. Hot Rod strides in quietly, attracting Bay’s immediate attention, but she doesn’t move from her position.
His gaze flicks to me, then back to her, then jerks his head toward the kitchen before walking in there.
Bay sighs, then ambles to her feet to follow. Her shoulders slack, her movements are slow, and this is a perfect time to apply some aftercare product to her arm while listening in on what Hot Rod came in here to say.
He stands on the other side of the island. Bay plops down on a stool, and they stare at each other for a moment.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to pick out the casket, so I did it for you,” Rod says simply. “It’s black. And I’d like it to be a closed?—”
“No,” she immediately cuts in, then doesn’t say any more.
“Bay…I don’t want to make this harder for you. He’s riddled in bullet holes. Maybe, if…” I can see in his expression he’s also having a hard time with this. That it’s hard for him to find his own words because he lost a brother, a leader, and a friend.
“Can we do something small?” she mutters, reaching up to run the pads of her fingers along her temple. “I don’t want the whole town gathered and…I just don’t want to deal with it.”
“Sure. I don’t think he’d want to be remembered like that anyway.”
She nods.
“You still wanna do the memorial cruise tomorrow?”
She bows her head again.
“Okay.” Hot Rod moves around the island and reaches out to pull her in his arms. She doesn’t move, allowing him to do whatever because she appears void of energy to fight or do anything. “What do you need?”
“A time machine.”
Rod kisses the top of her head and then lays his cheek along it. “Yeah…me too. Stay strong for me. We’ll get through this shit together.”
“Sure.”
With one more squeeze, he releases her and steals another look at me. “Make sure she eats.”
How about making sure she breathes?
I understand everyone wants her to stay put for her safety. I’m right there wishing the same thing.
However, I do know Bay needs to blow off some steam. She might not be snapping or losing her shit, but she’s going to erupt again. It’s only a matter of time before she gathers enough energy.
I nod so Hot Rod can take his exit and see I heard him. He does when I pluck the Aquaphor from the countertop and the plastic wrap keeping Bay’s tattoos from getting irritated.
Her arm is already laid out for me, but she doesn’t bother sparing me a glance or saying anything.
I don’t either.
I see the Chinese food Cairo brought over earlier is laid out and untouched. So, I get creative and see if I can maybe get her to take two bites.
She took her plastic wrap off earlier, possibly to let her skin breathe as I studied it a bit. Her skin is slightly pink. There’s a thin, solid black line that works its way to her elbow with patterns on either side, a collection of feathers, a small skull with a crown, the word “sinner” along the inside of her forearm, and the tattoo artist still has some shading to do, but he’s covering it nicely. Wallace had more, but I don’t know if Bay’s small arm is going to be able to hold it all. I bet she’s planning to.
Squirting some of the clear Aquaphor on my fingertips, I carefully apply it without touching her skin much. I put on some more and continue slowly making my way around every inch of ink to give it the hydration and anti-inflammatory care it needs.
“I can do this,” she whispers. “You don’t need to.”
I don’t respond because we both know I don’t. I just don’t know what else to do but watch her daydream into oblivion of whatever thoughts are plaguing her.
Applying as much as I can without brushing my skin along hers, I pop the Styrofoam lid with the almond chicken meal Cairo brought.
That causes Bay to glance over at me. “I’m not hungry.”
“Two bites,” I deadpan easily, but she doesn’t make a move for a fork.
“I’ve never seen you eat.”
So?
I eat plenty, but I have other things on my mind.
“I eat just fine,” I force from my throat as I apply more Aquaphor.
“So do I.”
That’s not the point.
She needs all her strength, and I don’t want her to get sick. I know her appetite is the last thing on her mind, but so is breathing. I’m sure there are a lot of dark thoughts running through her head after the comment she made about wanting to die to Cairo.
I can’t say it was on the top ten favorite things I’ve ever heard her say.
In fact, it made my heart stop in my chest.
But I’m beginning to learn with Bay, there’s negotiating. If you give her something she can’t turn down, you’ll win.
“I’ll eat two if you do,” I emit softly.
Bay slowly cocks her head. “Why do we need to make this a big deal?”
“I’m not,” I claim, carefully slathering her skin before I flick my gaze up to her. “You are.”
I continue with my task, ignoring her gaping at me like an exotic fish in a bowl, and try to remain focused. If she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t eat. I’m not going to force-feed her.
“I’ll eat if you eat with me,” she says, prompting a silent sigh to release from my lips.
It’s not that I’m weirded out by eating in front of her. It’s that I have to so she does.
“Fine.”
Bay taps her fingers along the counter before reaching for a utensil and mercilessly stabbing the fried rice like it did something.
Then it’s in my face.
“Open up,” she orders flatly, and I can’t help but stare at it. No one has ever fed me before.
“You first,” I retort, so she can’t double back.
“Me second.”
She’s a brat.
Now I know why Cairo doesn’t have any issue throwing it around.
Opening my mouth, Bay steadily slides the metal fork between my lips, and I close them around so she stops with this back-and-forth bullshit.
If it gets her to eat, I can withstand the awkward intimacy of her feeding me.
She’s just being stubborn as hell.
Bay follows through with her deal, scooping the smallest amount of rice when I clip out, “The same as me.”
She passes me a withering glare before scooping more rice and shoving it in her mouth with resentment.
I don’t care.
Plucking up the roll of plastic wrap, Bay doesn’t waste any time presenting me with more rice. And all I can think about is that her mouth was just on it.
“Was one bite good enough?” she taunts, a small smile gracing her lips, but I know she’s being cocky, not sweet.
My lips part, allowing her space to give me the rice, and she glides it through before sighing.
I won.
No matter how small the victory is, I still got her to eat without yelling.
“You suck,” she mutters, completing our agreement as I gingerly continue wrapping her arm. “I’m going to go get some more done tonight.” She lifts her arm a bit. “Wanna come with me?”
Yes.
I’m relieved she asked, and I bob my head that I will.
Bay is silent through the rest of me dressing her arm. She even picks at the chicken, teasing the idea she’ll eat some before dropping the fork and spinning out of the chair. She’s careful to go the other way so she doesn’t bump into me and abandons me in the kitchen while she retreats to the couch.
It’s a small win.
But she did what I asked with minimal effort, and we’re going out tonight.
I don’t know if I should be terrified or excited.