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Waverly swung the front door to the homestead before Nicole could even knock. She’d known they were coming. Of course she had. Nicole had texted ahead of time to warn her. Now Waverly found her girlfriend standing before her on the porch, struggling to keep Wynonna upright as she hoisted her up by the waist of her jeans; her other hand levering Wynonna’s arm around her neck. Both women were soaked through, the fault of the torrential rains that had been tearing through Purgatory the last three days.
Waverly stepped aside to let them in. Nicole half-walked, half-dragged, Wynonna across the threshold. Once inside, Waverly stepped up to her sister’s other side, and pulled her limp arm around her shoulder, taking some of Wynonna’s weight off of Nicole.
The women said nothing, aside from a few frustrated grunts as they struggled to haul the Earp heir to the bathroom. They carefully, though still lacking in ceremony, dropped Wynonna into the tub.
Waverly turned on the water and once the temperature was satisfactorily hot (just shy of scalding), she flipped the tap to the shower - the water cascading directly onto Wynonna’s face. The woman spluttered and gagged, pushing her body up with effort so that the stream landed on her chest and not her face.
“Fuck! Jesus, Waves!,” she protested, “are you trying to kill me?!”
“No,” answered Waverly, her chin and lip quivering. “You’re doing that just fine on your own.”
Nicole, recognizing a moment she should not be privy to, quietly removed herself and headed up to Waverly’s room to get changed into dry clothes.
“Jesus Christ, Wynonna,” Waverly sighed, sliding to sit down on the floor of the bathroom, her back against the cabinet below the sink. She swallowed, tensing her jaw. “You’ve got to…”
“What, Waves,” countered Wynonna, “What? Carry on? Pretend nothing is wrong? Pretend she isn’t gone? Or, what? Maybe I should pretend she never happened?”
“Stop harming yourself like this!” Waverly cried out, her voice cracking in desperation. A sob escaped her lips and she slapped her knee in frustration, wrapping her arms around her calves and pulling her thighs tightly against her chest.
For a few moments, the room was silent, save for the sound of running water hitting leather, cotton and denim. The varying staccatos creating a soft, percussive, symphony.
Waverly’s eyes snapped to Wynonna when she heard a soft muttering of words. “What?”
“I said ‘I don’t know how’,” Wynonna repeated, ashamed.
Waverly smiled sadly. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To help you?”
“You’ve got more important things to worry about,” answered Wynonna.
Waverly let go of her knees and scooted over to the side of the tub, reaching in and grasping her sister’s hands. “No,” she said, “I don’t.”
The pair stayed like that, sitting in silence, hands clasped, until the water started to turn cold. Waverly shut it off and helped Wynonna peel off her wet clothes, wrapping her in a warm towel. The stink of alcohol was mostly gone, having been washed away by the running water. Still, a sickly sweet odor remained on Wynonna’s skin. She’d have to sweat out the rest.
Waverly guided Wynonna to her room, sitting her on the bed and grabbing a long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants from her dresser. She dressed her sister, like a mother dressing a sleepy child, and tucked her in.
Stepping back into the kitchen, she found Nicole waiting for her; wearing the loose-fitting flannel pajama bottoms and well-worn police academy t-shirt she’d left over for occasions when she didn’t make it home. Her girlfriend smirked dolefully at her, and handed her a fresh cup of tea. Waverly accepted it gladly, taking a tentative sip and letting the hot liquid burn down her throat. She stepped into Nicole’s space, setting the mug down on the counter, and leaned her head and body into Nicole’s chest.
Nicole wrapped her arms around her, resting her head on top of Waverly’s, and rocked her slightly.
Outside, the gusting wind continued to whip the rain against the side of the house. Tumbleweeds rolled across the yard, occasionally bouncing over an obstacle, or getting stuck against the barn. Inside, the lights flickered, and three hearts ached.