“You would need to forge some IDs for us, I guess?”
“Yes,” she replied, “if we’re to stay in a hotel… I’m assuming that you haven’t mentioned any of this to Josh yet?”
I shook my head.
“Right.” She stood up, downing the last of her orange juice. “Okay, we’ll do it. Just you, me and Josh.”
She dumped her bowl in the sink before grabbing her handbag and touching my arm. She transported us to the hospital kitchens, where we picked up some breakfast for Josh before heading upstairs.
As we entered his room and approached Josh’s bed, I immediately noticed something different about him. He looked terribly ill compared to yesterday. There was not even the slightest warmth to his cheeks—he was pale as a sheet.
“Josh?” Shayla said. “You feeling okay?” She placed an arm around him and propped him upright so that he leaned against the headboard.
“I’ve felt better,” he said dryly.
“Let’s give you some of this warm breakfast.” Shayla poured out a bowl of soup, but when she handed it to him, he shook his head.
“Really not hungry,” he muttered.
“Try to eat something anyway,” Shayla pressed.
He took the bowl from her reluctantly before gingerly raising a spoon to his lips. Then he retched, though thankfully, he didn’t vomit. He spat the soup in his mouth back into the bowl. He shook his head again, returning the bowl to the witch. “I can’t eat anything now.”
“I wonder why,” Shayla muttered. “Grace said that you were eating solids only yesterday.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, resting his head back. “I wasn’t feeling all that hot last night, but when I woke up this morning, I had an awful stomach pain—still have.” He grimaced.
Shayla and I exchanged worried glances.
His eyes turned to me, an almost apologetic look on his face. “Won’t be able to visit your gym this morning either,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “Josh,” I began, even as I considered that now was probably the worst time to be talking about a trip since he was feeling so unwell. “Shayla and I have been talking. Neither the witches nor jinn have made any headway in forcing your memories back so we were thinking that we ought to try taking you somewhere… To your home country, England. London, specifically, at least at first. That’s where the IBSI’s headquarters are located. We’re hoping that it might trigger something… you know?”
Wincing, he propped himself up higher in bed, so that he could look at the two of us better. “London,” he murmured. “How would we get there?”
“Shayla would transport us with her magic.”
He shrugged loosely. “For how long?”
“We don’t know,” Shayla replied. “The plan would be to check into a hotel and just… see how things go. How you react to your initial surroundings. Whether there’s any spark.”
“All right,” he said, wincing again as though experiencing a shot of pain. “When do we leave?”
“Today,” Shayla replied. “At least, that was my plan before we found you like this.”
He shook his head. “No, I-I’ll be okay. Hopefully this is just an off day and I’ll be feeling better tomorrow. We should leave today, just as you planned.”
Shayla examined his face a moment longer, gauging his response. Then she sighed. “Okay.” She reached for the phone to call Tom to assist Josh in getting ready, but before she could place her hand on the phone, Josh reached out and caught her arm.
“Wait,” he said. “I want to get ready myself this morning. Grace can wait outside the bathroom. I can always tell her if something goes pear-shaped.”
Pear-shaped. I’d never heard that expression before. But I guessed well enough what he meant.
I felt nervous about Shayla agreeing to this after his last attempt at doing something himself in the bathroom. She also looked reluctant. However, she agreed.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said. “I have some of my own preparations to do. I’ll be back once I’m ready.”
She left the room.
I couldn’t help but wonder why today of all days Josh was insisting on this particularly. I knew that he never liked getting assistance for taking a bath, but he had put up with it until now. Why today of all days when he was feeling particularly down?
He slowly inched toward the edge of his bed and reached for the back of his wheelchair. I watched anxiously as he grabbed the chair’s arms. He pushed himself off the bed and slid into it. He winced as his hip banged against the side, but he shook it off and began wheeling himself to the bathroom.
I followed him to the door, which, thankfully, he kept open for the time being as he approached the sink. His toothbrush and toothpaste had been set within reaching distance, so it wasn’t difficult for him to manage brushing his teeth alone. But what I was most worried about was how he would manage in the bathtub. When he finished cleaning his teeth and moved to close the door on me, I was so tempted to ask him if he was sure about this… but I didn’t. Instead I just remained waiting tensely outside, my ear against the door, listening. I heard the squeaking of his wheels against the shiny floor, and then the running of water.
I waited for the sounds of him gripping the side of the bathtub and hauling himself in… but they didn’t come. When there was still silence after a couple more minutes had passed, I dared call, “You okay?”
“Yep,” he replied, a little tensely.
“Okay,” I said. “Was just wondering what the holdup was…”
“I, uh…” He swore beneath his breath. “I’m just thinking that I probably should take some help now, actually. Getting into the tub… I’m wearing boxers, obviously,” he added quickly.
“Oh. Of course.” I’d thought he had been hinting for me to call for Tom, not that he was requesting my help. “So can I come in now then?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Grabbing the handle, I pushed open the door to find that he’d wheeled himself to the edge of the tub. He twisted in his chair to face me, looking almost ashamed. My eyes fell from his face to the rest of his pale, bare body. I was impressed that he’d managed to get his pants off by himself, as well as his nightshirt. Now he sat, wearing a pair of black boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice his physique. Even the short time that he’d been using those weights had made a difference. His chest, torso and arm muscles were significantly more pronounced—not exactly toned, but no longer shadows.
This was also the first time that I was seeing his legs uncovered. They were long and lanky, but I’d expected them to look more slack than they did. Rather, the muscles in his thighs and calves resembled the muscles in his chest and arms before he had started working out—once sculpted, since faded, but still distinguishable. If he could only move his legs, I guessed it would not take long for him to get those back in shape either.
When he cleared his throat, his eyes still fixed on my face, I realized that I had stopped to ogle him a little too long. My cheeks warmed. “Sorry,” I said, raising my gaze.
I had never helped a man of his size into a tub before. I wasn’t exactly short, but I guessed that he was at least six foot in height, if he’d been able to stand. I was strong, though. And he was slim. Rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan, I moved forward and lowered to him until my cheek was almost touching his.
“You can put your arms around me,” I said.
He raised his arms and placed them around my neck, while I wound mine around his waist. Slowly but surely, I eased him out of the chair and sat him on the edge of the tub. While he was perched there, I removed a hand from his midriff and trailed my fingers in the water to make sure that it was the right temperature. It felt pleasantly warm.
Now I had to be careful, as I lowered him the rest of the way into the tub, to make sure that I didn’t lose my balance and fall on top of him. That would be so awkward…
When his backside touched the base of the tub, I let go of him, allowing him to sink
into the water, before picking up his legs and easing them in too. I straightened and looked down at him with a sense of pride. “There. That wasn’t too difficult.”
“Thank you,” he said, before reaching for a sponge.
I considered leaving now, but since he wasn’t glaring at me or hinting that I did, I decided to stay. I drew up a stool and sat quietly at the edge of the tub while he began soaping himself.
“You must be incredibly bored with me by now,” he said, slanting me a glance.
I frowned at him.
“After you were introduced as my caregiver,” he clarified, “I didn’t think that you would remain with me all this time.”
I raised my brows. “Why would you presume that?”
He shrugged, wiping his face and looking away. “Well, you’re only seventeen, right?”
“Yes…”
“Is this really what seventeen-year-old girls want to do with their time?”
I paused, considering my response. I thought to reply that this was my work experience, but during the days we’d spent together, I had come to see this as a lot more than that. Plus, I didn’t want him to think that this was just an excuse for me to skip classes. Because it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Heck, I’d become so invested in his wellbeing that I’d lost sleep on several nights.
“I can’t speak for others,” I said tersely. “But I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that I have been anything but bored since you arrived on the island.”
He fell silent, looking not quite satisfied with my answer.
“What about you?” I countered. “Aren’t you bored with me yet?”
His eyes shot up to meet mine. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
“No,” I replied, my face deadpan.
A smile curved his lips. He shook his head. “I imagine it would be quite hard to get bored with you.”
Now it was my turn to smile. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re… an interesting person, Grace. Leaving aside the fact that you’re half fae, you’re full of stories. You have strong opinions about things. You’ve lived a colorful life.”
“Okay,” I said, my smile broadening. “I can take a compliment. I find you to be interesting, too.” Interesting enough for me to be a creeper and keep a constant diary about you. “And I’m sure that you’ll be even more interesting once we get back your memories.”
“Hm.” His smile faded. “If.”
“I prefer ‘once,’” I said.
His grin returned. “Okay, Grace. Once.”
His mood seemed significantly lighter as he continued washing himself. I wondered if even his stomach pains were subsiding, because he wasn’t wincing quite so much. Perhaps he was just distracted by our conversation.
“Why did you insist on doing this yourself today?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Well, I can’t fit my exercise in,” he replied, wiping his face with a washcloth. “The least I can do is try to shift my own weight… That, and I suppose… something of you has rubbed off on me.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked up. “I’m not sure if it’s been intentional on your part or not,” he replied, “but the message I’ve gleaned from you is to make the most of what I’ve got, while I’ve got it. When I feel beaten down, strive harder… or whatever.” He smirked self-deprecatingly. “Or maybe I’m just spewing crap.”
My eyes widened. It had not been a conscious decision on my part to try to impart any kind of message to Josh. But it was true that in setting up his gym and taking him there every day to work his upper body, I’d wanted him to make the best use of whatever he found himself with. Wasn’t that what we all ought to do in life, appreciate what we had and make the most of it, rather than hankering after what was out of reach? At least, that was what my parents had always told me.
“Well, that’s, uh… that’s good crap,” I said.
He chuckled. “It is.”
We both fell into silence for a while before he spoke again. “What do you plan to do with your life when you grow older?”
“Hm…” I fingered the edge of the tub. “More of the same, I suppose…” Not that there really was anything “of the same” here in The Shade. There was always something different or unexpected going on. “I’m a member of the island’s League and I intend to remain so for as long as I live… at least, that’s what I think.”
I wished that I could have returned his question and received his answer. Though if my speculation that he was once a hunter was correct, he would have already decided what he’d wanted to be.
Neither Shayla nor I had mentioned this to him yet—this wild guess. I didn’t see any reason not to mention it to him now.
“You know,” I began tentatively, “I have a theory about you.”
He laid down his sponge and cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?
“I have a feeling that you used to be a member of the IBSI.”
His brows practically touched his hairline. “Seriously? Why would you think that?”
I explained my reasoning, however shaky it might be. By the time I was done he didn’t have much to say to counter it.
“I suppose anything’s possible,” he said.
He fell silent for a while as he mulled over the idea.
Once it looked like he’d finished cleaning his body, I noticed that his hair looked a bit greasy. Although I was still hesitant to offer such personal help, I suggested casually, “Your hair looks like it might need a wash.”
He reached into his hair and felt it. “Yeah. You’re right.”
He sank down into the bathtub, submerging his head. I looked toward the cabinet beneath the sink, where the shampoo was kept. Leaving the bath side for a moment, I pulled out a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner before returning to my seat.
“Would you let me?” I asked, holding up the bottle. “I like messing with hair.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right.”
He sat up again and turned himself so that his back was facing me. I ran my fingers through his hair and soaked his scalp with shampoo. It was actually true that I liked messing with hair—since I was a kid, I’d always wanted to play around with my mom’s long hair, and I’d mess with Hazel’s and Victoria’s too whenever they came round for a sleepover. Perhaps if I hadn’t joined the League and I’d lived in a world that was far different from our own, I might have even trained to become a hairdresser…
I finished lathering his hair before instructing him to dip into the water again. I rinsed it off, giving his scalp a massage at the same time. When he sat up, although he still looked awfully pale, he appeared quite relaxed. Certainly less tense than when I’d first come in here.
As I examined him now, it looked like there was only one more thing to be done. His beard. It was still looking rather unkempt, and if we were to stay in a hotel, we needed to attract as little attention as possible. It was about time for him to have a shave, anyway. Feeling bolder now that he’d allowed me to wash his hair, I moved to the shelves and took down a new razor and a jar of shaving foam. I placed them on the edge of the bathtub.
To my surprise, he chuckled. “Okay,” he said, reaching for them. “I can take a hint. Drop the caveman look.”
I smirked. “I do think you’ll look better without it.”
As he started opening the jar of cream, I quickly fetched a handheld mirror and held it up to him. As he began to shave, I watched closely. His beard slowly came off. I marveled at the transformation, and once he was finished, I was practically gaping.
Wow. What a difference a shave can make. He looked so much younger. His features were also more pronounced—his jawline was harder, stronger than I had thought beneath his hair, and his cheekbones were also sharper. I spotted a faint dimple at the end of his chin, which was actually kind of cute. His lips also looked different: wider, fuller.
I realized that I was looking at him more than he was looking at himself when he fro
wned at me and said, “What?”
“You look, um… awesome.” Handsome was the word that had almost slipped from my lips.
He looked back at himself in the mirror and widened his eyes. “You’re easily impressed, then.”
I wasn’t about to start arguing that he was better looking than he was willing to admit. Instead, I just smiled faintly and pursed my lips.
Now that he had finished shaving, I wasn’t sure what other business he had to do in the bath. He seemed to be ready to get out, too. I stood up, planting my left hand on the left side of the bath and my right on the right side, to gain a grip. Then I lowered myself—until my face was rather uncomfortably close to his—and gave him permission for the second time. “You can put your arms around me.”
His cool, damp arms reached around my neck. As I began slowly easing him up, my right hand slipped from the edge of the tub. I’d underestimated how slippery the water had made it. I found myself falling… he was falling too… I was falling on top of him. The next thing I knew, we were both in the bathtub. Our faces were squashed together, our noses touching. And his laughter was loud in my ear.
“Oh, my God!” I gasped, scrambling to raise myself off of him. “I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing hold of the tub’s edges, I leapt out of the bath so fast one would have thought he had given me an electric shock.
But Josh didn’t seem to mind my mistake in the slightest. He was still shaking with laughter.
Well, at least somebody’s entertained…