“What?” she prompted him when he didn’t continue.
“I came home from work and he was painting numbers on the roof of our house. Some kind of radio frequency. Giving these supposed extra-terrestrials a way to reach him? I don’t know, but it was the final straw. I said…things that weren’t kind. I told him she was never coming back and he was in denial. Nothing I said ever seemed to break through to him. I’d try and talk to him about baseball or town gossip and he’d just stare back with this blank look, always running numbers in his head. Tuning me right out. But this time…when I said she wasn’t coming back, he yelled back. Called me a son of a bitch. I was almost relieved, you know? I should have stuck around and seen that fight through to the end, but I had the race to get to.”
“You couldn’t have known it would be the last time you saw him.” Mary said, her sympathetic heart stuck between beats. “But ending on bad terms, words spoken in anger…those are all reasons to make it right now. And Tucker, no one who knows you would believe you’re capable of murdering those people, especially your father.”
They fell silent.
Mary could still hear vague rustling noises out in the hallway and after a while, her curiosity started to get the better of her. Using the edge of the tub for balance, she stood, remaining hunched over and gripping the porcelain. She tried to remember if Tucker had said anything about a bar to aid her in stepping out of the bath. Or a mat so she wouldn’t slip.
No. Neither.
She took a deep breath, made sure her hold on the tub was secure, and lifted her left foot over the rim, settling it on the floor. Tile. It would grow slick easily and she was already dripping all over it. The smart thing to do would be to call Tucker into the bathroom and ask for help, but she was already relying on him for so much. She should be able to get out of a bathtub by herself, shouldn’t she? It was just so unfamiliar. Nothing like her tub at home, which had been equipped with hand holds and a low height to accommodate Mary.
You can do this.
Mary put the majority of her weight on the left foot and swung her right one out, but the left lost traction almost immediately, the sole of her foot skating sideways on the wet tile—and she went down, landing hard on her right knee.
Behind her, the bathroom door flew open, bashing off the wall.
“Mary,” Tucker shouted hoarsely. “Jesus, what happened?”
Her knee was throbbing and her pride was wounded, but neither one ranked higher in importance than her nudity. Truthfully, she wasn’t terribly upset about Tucker seeing her in the nude, but if it was going to happen, why did she have to be sprawled out on the floor with her limbs pointing in opposite directions?
With a squeak, Mary reached for the towel—which direction am I facing?—but Tucker was already wrapping it around her body and hauling her off the floor into his arms.
“What was I thinking? I didn’t even put a goddamn towel on the floor.” The poor vampire sounded like the world was crumbling around him, but wouldn’t stop talking long enough for Mary to reassure him she was fine. “I’m not taking care of you well enough. You could have hit your head. Jesus Christ. What do I do? Where should I take you?”
“Nowhere!” Mary grabbed the sides of Tucker’s head, turning it in her direction and letting him see her smile. “I just banged my knee a little bit. It’s fine. Blind people fall once in a while. People with eyesight fall once in a while. It just happens.”
Tucker was carrying her somewhere. She couldn’t be sure where, but she didn’t care. He’d take her to the right place. “I should have thought all of it through, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“You’re lying to make me feel better.”
“Maybe a little.” She laid a hand on his chest, eager to feel the reassuring weight of his chains, but her fingertips encountered something else entirely. Soft in some places, flexible in others. Whatever the object, it was crushed between them. “Tucker, what is this?”
He paced back and forth a moment. “It’s a daisy crown,” he muttered. “Earlier it sounded like maybe you wanted one. It was a stupid thing to do. It distracted me and you almost got hurt—”
“It’s not stupid,” she whispered, emotion cresting in her throat. That’s what she’d heard him doing in the hallway. “I love it. I love it. Will you put it on my head?”
Mary sensed his indecisiveness. Maybe even wariness. It lasted a few seconds before Tucker sat down with Mary in his lap, the towel still wrapped securely around her body, and he placed the crown of flowers atop her head. “There you go.” His voice was gruff, his fingers stroking the wet strands of her hair. “I hereby proclaim you queen of the fairies.”