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“We have a lot to talk about, old friend.” I didn’t give him a chance to recoil, just slid my arms around him and hugged him close, grateful to have him back. “Want to sit?”
A faint tremor moved through him, warning me he might stagger if he didn’t, and he nodded twice.
“Yeah,” he rasped, cradling Colby in his hand. “Let’s sit.”
Scooting me aside, Blay accepted Clay’s weight and eased him down gently.
We sat next, careful not to crowd Clay. I rested my hand on his knee as I told him what he’d missed from my point of view. Iwished that had been the end of it. I saw in his eyes he did too. Then came the hard part.
While Colby remained in barnacle mode, she began telling her side of the story, and I did too. Both of us afraid of how he would react and what he might do to distance himself from those actions until he could accept them.
“I didn’t hurt you?” He held Colby on his palm, level with his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She hugged his thumb until anyone else would have lost circulation. “You took care of me.”
“And you let her go.” I rubbed his shoulder, having the same problem. “You saved her life.”
Familiar with what came next, I prepared my secret weapon.
“I endangered it in the first place—” He spluttered when I launched my attack. “That was myeye.”
The water gun I had kept concealed was the size of a navel orange, but I had spelled it to never run dry.
“You have two.” Colby giggled. “Besides, it’s just water.”
“Et tu?” He clutched his chest. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am.” She drew the tiniest water gun on the market, barely the size of a plump strawberry. “Mostly.”
Pulling the trigger, she shot water up his nose, and he coughed until he spat beside him.
“Oops.” She cringed. “I didn’t factor in the angle.”
“Shoot me all you want.” He kissed the top of her head. “Drown me if you want. I deserve it.”
This time Blay shot him in the ear with his cannon-sized soaker, and he yelped when it hit him.
Did I forget to mention the water was ice cold? As in, fresh glacier-trickle cold?
I mean, if you’re going to spell something, you might as well spell it right.
“What was that for?” He scooched farther from us. “I accepted the blame?—”
“Exactly.” Colby shot him in the cheek, shaking her head all the while. “Quit it.”
“No blame,” Blay echoed, firing madly, soaking his shirt. “Clay stop or else.”
Eyes darting between us, Clay couldn’t help but blurt, “But it was my?—”
“Hmm?” I shot him in the forehead, my aim getting better all the time. “Did you say something?”
“No.” He covered his face with his empty hand. “I didn’t say a thing.”
Noticing Blay take aim again, I rested my hand on his weapon and forced him to lower it.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to tell you.” I locked gazes with Clay. “You’re free.”
“The director is with Calixta.” He pieced it together. “He can’t get to me unless?—”
