“Monika, she’s hurt! Think beyond your godsdamned coffers for once!”
It was the wrong thing to say. Monika stormed up to him before her hand cracked across his face. Yet unlike with her girls, Monika didn’t hold back on him. He winced at the strength behind the hit, tasting blood in his mouth. Monika pointed a finger straight in his face. “Get back to work or your supper will be the only pay you get tonight, and only because I can’t pull it out of your godsdamned stomach.”
Garrett saw red, and for the first time in his life, he felt like hewantedto kill. He bared his tusks, but Monika didn’t flinch. She met his fury without fear, and his flash of rage faded to a helpless sort of resignation.
It took all of his willpower to turn away from Bridgette’s door and head back down the stairs. He barely even heard the din of the main room, didn’t really register Isolde’s concerned question. He fell into his regular seat, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stairs.
Ten minutes later, Bridgette descended. Her dress was back on, her hair and makeup fixed. She smiled that coy smile, the shattered pieces of her mask firmly back in place. And Garrett doubted that anyone but him could see the cracks.
It was a relief to bar the door as the last man finally left. The girls all looked exhausted, and while most seemed all too eager to change out the sheets and go to bed, Bridgette lingered. She took a seat at the bar, and Monika paused in counting the till to fill her a cup of wine. Bridgette took it without a word.
Garrett got to work mopping as Monika finished cleaning up behind the bar. Once she had, she slid a copper and a half into Garrett’s hand.
“I apologize for my sharp tongue earlier,” Monika said. “Tonight was a hard night. All of us deserve a little extra after that.”
Garrett closed his hand around the coins without a word. No amount would buy his forgiveness, and Monika seemed to realize it. She offered him a wan smile. “Goodnight, Garrett.”
Monika retreated to her quarters, and Garrett finished mopping before he dumped the water out back. When he returned to the bar, Bridgette’s cup was empty, and her fox fur was draped around her shoulders.
“Bri?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with tears. “I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
Garrett glanced back at Monika’s door before he whispered, “She’ll hear us leave. She bars the door every night after I go.”
Bridgette’s eyes spilled over as what little remained of her mask shattered. “Please.”
His heart broke as he looked at her. The Madam would find out. Would likely fire him for it, but he’d failed Bridgette earlier, and he couldn’t stomach failing her again.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
Bridgette nodded, and he moved slowly as he gently scooped her into his arms. Her own slid around his neck for stability, and she felt so light that he was afraid she might drift away if he didn’t keep a tight hold. He carried her over to the bar where his pack lay, and a shadow of a grin flitted across her face as she grabbed it and hugged it to her chest.
Garrett carried her down the hall and out the back door, his heart thudding in his chest. He half expected Monika to come running after them, but there were no hurried footsteps. No shouts or threats. Instead, there was only the quiet sound of the bar sliding closed behind them.
As he carried her from the alley, Bridgette rested her head against his shoulder, seemingly in no hurry to be set down. So, he didn’t. Even when they reached his lodgings, Bridgette was the one to fish his key from his pack and unlock the door for them.
Garrett ducked under the frame to carry Bridgette inside. His lodgings were small but tidy, nestled behind a curtain in the back of Thomas’ workshop. The tailor had relaxed a little bit when none of his things wound up missing in Garrett’s presence, and Bridgette reached out to trace the sleeve of a half-finished dress that was pinned to the wooden dress form.
He nudged aside the curtain that obscured his bed before he gently set Bridgette onto her feet. As she looked around the workshop, he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly uncertain.
“Can I get you anything?”
Bridgette hung his pack over the lone hook on the wall before she reached back to undo the laces of her dress. She let it drop, exposing her slip. It was sheer enough that he could see the bandage wrapped around the cuts on her thigh. His eyes went wide as she turned to face him.
Looking at her, he’d misjudged the quality of the mask she wore, because now, she looked at him without it. She looked young and tired and vulnerable, as if one wrong move would send all the pieces of her falling apart. Her voice was quiet, almost shy as she asked, “Will you lay down with me?”
Garrett’s heart started racing as he looked at her extended hand. His own shook as he took it, and he followed Bridgette’s lead as she drew him into his bed. She laid down with her back against his chest before she lifted his arm over her waist. He shifted, settling in as she reached down to pull the blanket up to cover them both. It made him aware of every place they touched, how the contours of his body fit so nicely against hers. She felt small and delicate as she trembled against him.
“I know you’re not alright,” he said after a moment, “but is there anything I can do to help?”
Bridgette let out a shuddering breath. “This is enough.”
Garrett tightened his arm over her waist as he listened to the sound of her breathing. He could tell she was crying, though even now she tried her best to hide it. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, so he just held her, offering what little comfort he could.
It took some time, but she finally quieted. Her breathing evened out, and when Garrett shifted to look at her face, she was fast asleep. Seeing her at peace helped put him at ease, and only then was he able to close his eyes. He fell asleep with the scent of her clove and apple blossom perfume surrounding him like a blanket.
When he woke, it was to the sound of merchants shouting outside. He yawned, feeling better rested than he had in ages. But then he realized that the reason for his deep, dreamless sleep was missing.
