Page 60 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“I did,” Bridget said, watching the way Gwen’s hair slipped over her half-bared shoulder as she turned.

“Then I’ll get you some more.”

“Okay.”

More tea was delivered to her, and Bridget dutifully drank it, but it was hard to pay much attention to the lemons as Gwen continued to unbuckle the rest of her armor as best she could, the pauldrons coming off easily, her cuirass and gorget slightly trickier, Gwen briefly trying to reach around to the back of Bridget’s legs and then giving up when this proved too difficult. She went away to the mirror and came back with a basin, which she placed on the bed, and the rinsed rag, which she pressed to Bridget’s cheek. It was warm and damp, and satisfyingly coarse; Gwen was gentle as she washed, butstill it felt like she left behind a certain rawness, delicate skin scrubbed new and clean.

She’d been using one hand to hold Bridget’s hair out of the way, and Bridget took that hand and kissed her on the wrist. It was nice kissing backs, yes, but kissing wrists was also very good, and this time she could see Gwen, her eyes still and focused. She paused.

“You don’t want me to,” Bridget said, neither a statement of fact or a question, just a sentence she was tossing out there to see how it landed.

“No,” Gwen said. “I mean— It’s not that. I do. I really do.”

“Oh.” Bridget nodded slowly. “Good.”

She put her tea down again because it was only in the way, took the cloth from Gwen’s hand and dropped it in the basin, and then she could kiss Gwen properly on the mouth, where they both tasted like lemons. Gwen sighed when she was kissed—Bridget didn’t think she knew, or could help it—and it was good, but tonight it wasn’tenough, just one little sigh. She needed more.

“Here,” Bridget said, and she pulled Gwen onto her lap, let her hands fall to the small of her back, tried to remember to be gentle with all that unlaced green silk, and only somewhat succeeded. Gwen wasn’t saying anything at all, just kissing and kissing Bridget back, closing her eyes, catching her breath when she could. There was so much of Gwen everywhere that Bridget didn’t need to think about anything else, the feeling as urgent and all-consuming as pain, obliterating anything else that might have mattered mere moments ago… and then Bridget realized that Gwen was suddenly gripping hard on to her wrists—bothof her wrists—keeping Bridget’s hands at bay.

“Hello.”

Bridget was still looking at Gwen’s lip, red and flushed where she’d… Had she actuallybittenit? Already hard to recall the events of the last few minutes. She leaned in again.

“Bridget,no.”

That was like a bucket of ice. She froze, horrified, then eased Gwen from her lap, took up the basin, carried it over to the dresser, and splashed her face with now-lukewarm water.

“Sorry,” she said, burning with shame. “I’ll—”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

She started picking up her armor piece by piece, misjudging how much of it was still strapped together and losing a pauldron with a loud clatter, then having to fumble to pick it back up again.

Gwen sat on the bed, watching her seriously, saying “Bridget” softly, again and again. It was only when Bridget dropped her pauldron for a second time that she stopped, gave up, sat down on the bed next to Gwen, and closed her eyes.

“Look, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Gwen said. “All right? So stop self-flagellating and throwing your armor around. I just… I can tell your mind isn’t really here, and I’d rather not be kissing somebody whose soul has exited their body.”

Bridget didn’t open her eyes, but she felt Gwen’s fingers questing for her hand, and turned it over so she could grasp it better.

“What was it, today? The crowd? The shouting? I know it was something, because all the way back here you had that panicked-animal look, like you were somewhere else.”

Bridget opened her eyes, surprised.

“I’m not stupid, Bridget. And I rode out onto that battlefield too, even if I wasn’t there for long. I remember what it was like. Hell.”

“Hell,” Bridget repeated. “Blood and mud.” She was backthere for a second, choking on the stench, and then she was back in the crowd watching that man spit on Bowen, magnificent Bowen, who took it with his head held high. “The rain,” she said suddenly. “It was raining. And it smelled like…”

“Yes,” Gwen said. “Yes, I remember. Damp, but also… rotting. That’s what happened today? The rain? It reminded you?”

“Maybe.” Bridget took in a breath and let it out slowly, unable to stop the shake on the exhalation. “I told you, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Gwen was quiet for a beat too long, and Bridget was starting to actively hate herself again for pushing her too far, when she said, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you actually. I think you’re having a very reasonable reaction to a very terrible thing.”

“We’ve all been through a terrible thing. Nobody else is like this.”

“You don’t know that. And even if it’s not exactly likethis, we’ve all got something going on. I only wish I knew how to help.”

Bridget was so tired. Her eyes were hot and prickly, almost like she might be on the verge of tears. “Youarehelping.”