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“I’m not hungry.”

“Good. I don’t have food yet, and I can’t find anything but ketchup and oatmeal. I did bring a glass of ice water.”

“I’m not thirsty.” Her hoarse voice belied the statement.

I crouched down beside the tub and handed her the cold glass of water. “Drink it all, then I’m bringing in another glass.”

I watched as she considered arguing, but then she must have realized she was thirsty. As soon as she took the first sip she started gulping.

“Easy,” I cautioned.

She finished the glass and then handed it back to me. I grinned.

“Want more?” She nodded, her chin covered in bubbles.

“Food’s going to take a bit longer to rustle up.”

“Ketchup-flavored oatmeal doesn’t sound good, Zarek.”

I laughed. How in the hell did depressed Chloe manage to make me laugh?

“It’ll be something better than that, I promise. This is your fifteen-minute warning. If you take longer than that to come out, I’m coming in,” I teased.

“You don’t need to do this,” she said softly.

“For God’s sake, you’re my best friend. If I was hurting this badly, what would you do?”

Her head jerked, her eyes stared up at me.

Bullseye.

“Good. You think about that, Cupcake. I’ll be back with another glass of water.”

* * *

Chloe

I waited until Zarek left the second time before trying to get out of the bathtub. If I had more brains than pride, maybe I would have asked for help, but that wasn’t my M.O. Instead, I told him I was fine getting out of the tub.

Trying to push up on my weak arms and failing, it finally occurred to me to get up on my knees and get out of the tub that way. I needed to get out and covered before Zarek barged in. I needed to prove to him that I was fine. I bit my lip as my legs trembled.

Before grabbing a towel, I closed the bathroom door. I started to dry myself off when I realized how much my foot hurt. It took a moment for me to realize I was avoiding looking in the mirror, even though it was fogged up. What, was I afraid I would bash in this one too?

“Can I come in?”

“Hold on.” I wrapped the towel around myself. “Now you can come in.”

“I come bearing gifts.” He held out another glass. I took it from him and sniffed. It smelled of pineapple.

“I found protein powder and canned fruit. It was the best I could do. I tasted it, it shouldn’t kill you.” He grinned.

I took a sip. It was cold, and the sweet and tart flavor exploded in my mouth. I swallowed greedily.

“Take it easy,” he warned. I ignored him. I hadn’t realized how good food could taste, or how hungry I was. He pulled the glass from me before I was halfway finished.

“I wasn’t done,” I protested.

“Yes, you were. I don’t think your tummy could handle much more. When was the last time you ate?”