I let go of her wrists, went down on my knees in front of her, and pulled her into my arms, one hand cradling the back of her head the way I had done a thousand times before. "It's okay. It's okay, Tasha. It's okay."
She broke against me, sobbing into my shoulder in great, heaving waves, and I held her through all of it until the worst of it passed. Then I lifted her gently, made her sit on the edge of my bed, and took the balm from her hand.
"Let me take care of your wounds."
She nodded, sniffling, and I went into the bathroom and came back with a basin of warm water and a cloth. I stayed in front of her and began to wipe the dried blood from the welts on her shoulder and her arm, as gentle as I knew how, and then I worked the balm into her skin with slow, careful fingers. She flinched at first, then slowly relaxed under my hands.
When I was done, she looked at me with fresh tears swimming in her eyes. "Thank you, Scarlett. I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me earlier."
"It's okay." I capped the balm and set it aside. "I get it. You were really upset." A pause settled between us, and I dried my hands on the cloth, buying myself a moment. "I've had time to think about a few things. You wore makeup. You dressed up beautifully. And then you went to Sparrow's room." I looked at her squarely. "Do you have an interest in Sparrow, Tasha? Do you like him?"
"No. No." She shook her head so fast the motion blurred. "Of course not. Why would you think that, Scarlett?"
"I don't know." I shrugged, letting the cloth fall into the basin. "I just couldn't think of any other reason why you would snap at me the way you did. I thought maybe you have feelings for Sparrow, and you're unhappy to see me close to him."
"No. Of course not." She shook her head again, vehement, her eyes wide and earnest. "I could never have feelings for a monster like him."

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