Between Tides & Thunder

I lose track of how long I float in the bath, waiting patiently, just in case Zev returns to steal another kiss. He left his scent on my skin and his promise in my chest. But his absence leaves space for something else to return—me.

The water turns lukewarm, then colder still, until goosebumps erupt across the surface of my pale skin.

When I can’t bear to wait any longer, I slowly sit up in the tub.

I raise my hand—

—and the water responds.

It rises out of the tub in thin streams, merging and diverging above my head in swirling patterns. Another swish of my hand, and the water melds together before flattening into a thin sheet. With a pinch of my fingers, the droplets separate again and freeze into sharp, serrated icicles.

A slow grin stretches across my lips.

Tides, I’ve missed waterwielding.