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No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help flinching back when the fabric tightened and pressed against the top of the bandage. And the second she did, Saff’s hands released.
“I can’t get it up high enough to see,” she said, her voice still a perfect mask of heartless composure. “You shouldn’t have put this on today. The wound probably opened again when you got the shirt on.”
“I didn’t have anything else that was easier to get on,” Maddie hissed, her arm unconsciously returning to touch the decal on the shirt.
Saff released a breath, and Maddie swore she could hear a hint of irritation in it.
Good.Another win.
“I need to cut it off.”
Maddie shifted. “How? It’s not like you have a knife anymore,” she spat, hurling the words with all the venom she could muster.
Saff let out a snort of something resembling dry amusement. “I don’t need one.”
She stepped forward, and Maddie stilled as she felt the heat from Saff’s body radiating onto her.
Her fingers hooked beneath the hem of the shirt, and Maddie sucked in a sharp breath as nerves shot through her stomach.
“Is this okay?” Saff asked in an all too medical way. “We could try to roll the sleeve up again, but I think it’ll just do more harm than good.”
Maddie turned her head slightly to the side, trying to pull her attention away from where Saff’s knuckles had grazed her skin. She gave it a second, then finally nodded.
Saff’s other hand joined the first, then she paused.
“What?” Maddie murmured.
She felt Saff’s hands drop from the hem of the shirt. Then there was a rustling of fabric and movement in front of her.
After a second, Saff gently took the hand of her uninjured arm, turning the palm upward.
“Here,” she said, as warm, thick fabric draped over her hand. “It’s my hoodie.” Saff cleared her throat. “Uh—to cover yourself with once I get the shirt off.”
If she wasn’t angry and in pain, and already hating her so much in that moment, she absolutely would’ve teased her about the awkward lilt in her voice.
“Okay,” Saff continued, her hands returning to the hem of her shirt. “Ready?”
Maddie nodded again, clutching the hoodie tightly at her side.
Immediately, Saff gave one quick tug, and Maddie heard the first rip.
Saff’s hands adjusted, moving farther up the shirt, although they never so much as grazed her skin.
When she felt the shirt ripping higher up into where she knew the logo was, tears prickled at the back of her eyes.
She turned her head away, grinding her teeth to keep the wetness from building in her eyes.
Saff’s hands froze. “Are you okay? Did that hurt?”
The sudden return of Saff’s caring voice—the real one—not the emotionless shell of a voice she’d had since the fire made it that much harder to keep the tears at bay.
“Its fine,” Maddie whispered, biting her lip to keep it from shaking. “Just do it.”
It was just a shirt. Just an old, stupid shirt. One that Saff didn’t even like. She knew that. But for some reason, it didn’t matter.
If—when—Saff left, she wouldn’t have anything from her. And it wasn’t like the world before, where there was a chance they’d run into each other again. When she left, that would be it.
The shirt wasn’t much, but at least it was something.