Dollie places the sponge on the floor to her side first and the scissors on top.
“She’s gonna have to have a crew cut.”
The deepness of my smile tests my healing scars again. My eyes refuse to leave her, taking in every detail of her perfect face.
Then, I’m staring, and my view is blurred because how could this be my life.
How could I lose so many years, have us be this close, and yet there’s nothing between us?
We were each other’s everything.
Now, we’re semi-estranged siblings.
Not even close to friends.
I drop my eyes to the third item, still in her hand. It’s for me.
Trembling fingers lay out before me. My movements mirror hers as I lift a hand from the water and place it on her palm. I allow her to pry the splinter from my skin gently.
Pulling our hands apart, my blood stains her hand, but she says nothing.
Her face says nothing.
It’s almost like she doesn’t feel any dirtier from it.
And it makes me wish that little bit harder for things I’ll likely never get back.
Our bond.
Making my eyes turn in on each other, Dollie pushes the tweezers close to my face. “I love how this little thing required a band-aid, but the dog bite, you can brave.”
Setting it down at her side, she grabs the scissors next. “Can you hold her face? I won’t brave the bite and may lose an eye if I jump too fast.”
I do as she asks, and together, we succeed.
The twig makes a small splash as it lands in the water. Dollie’s glittery pink nails twinkle as her fingers weave, dislodging the smaller twigs and leaves.
Taking the sponge from her, because I don’t want her to have to do everything, I wash Bubbles’ back until she looks white again.
Standing, I lift our furry girl from the water, forgetting that my sleeves are still rolled up and my tattoo is exposed to Dollie’s low angle.
Luckily, her eyes are on Bubbles as she towel dries her.
I don’t think she saw it.
She can never see it.
CHAPTER 43
Dollie—present day
Pink gloss stains my lips, a subtle glitter twinkling in the golden light of the reading room. A tiny compact mirror balances on Duggan’s lap, and he holds it in place for me. He sits on the chaise lounge. The red velvet cushions him while the hard floor is my seat. A few makeup smudges block the clear view of the confused young woman who stares back at me from the mirror, surrounded by a wall of her favorite things.
Not even those trinkets and collectibles comfort me right now.
On the other side of the wall, Bubbles naps on her back, a gentle snore leaving her with the rise and fall of her chest.
I’d rather stay home with her tonight, but I pack away mascaras, setting powders, and lip gloss, getting ready for the night ahead.
