Page 42 of Mutant Mine

I gulp my water.

When he’s finished and the table is cleared, I feel exhausted. The bump on my head is throbbing. Reality has felt very faraway all evening, and I can’t hold on much longer. I need for this day to be over and tomorrow to come.

Roth must feel it too. He takes it in turns with me to use the bathroom, chew a tooth-cleaning capsule, and get ready for sleep. We lapse into our familiar routine: I head to the bed, while he lays his pillows and blanket down on the floor.

“Computer, please turn the lights off,” I say.

I’m just starting to drift off when I hear the sounds. First, shuffling, as if Roth is turning over. Then, an unmistakable grunt of discomfort.

Shit… His injury.

“Okay, we’re swapping places,” I say, sitting up drowsily. “Come on. You’re taking the bed until you’re fully healed.”

“I will not put you on the floor,” Roth says. I can tell from his tone that if I try to argue, I’m not going to win.

“Well, I won’t putyouon the floor!” I say, resisting the urge to stamp my foot.

“We appear to be at an impasse.”

He sounds infuriatingly placid. I pull a face, thankful that he can’t see me.

Roth saved my life tonight. Hetook a knifefor me — and now he’s in pain. If I can’t persuade him to swap places, I’m only going to lie awake all night feeling guilty. But evidently, he’s not going to take the bed if it means kicking me out onto the carpet.

Unless…

Clearing my throat, I say as steadily as I can:

“It doesn’t really make sense for either of us to be uncomfortable. It’s a big bed. We can share.”

There’s a long, long pause.

“Are you certain?” Roth asks. His voice is soft. I know that I could change my mind now, if I wanted to.

“Yes.” I say firmly. And I am.

I hear him pad across the room — then the bed shifts dramatically as Roth climbs in, his immense weight making it dip towards him. I’ve shuffled right to one edge of the mattress. He settles himself stiffly on the other extreme.

This should probably feel weird, but it doesn’t. I’m too tired to feel anything much except… tired.

“Good night,” I whisper.

“… Good night, little bird.”

That’s how we go to sleep: together but apart, with a diplomatic distance between us.

This was definitely the grown-up and logical solution,I think right before I float away.Why did I ever think this would be a problem?

* * *

ALL I’M AWAREof is absolute, blissful comfort. I’m lying on my side, cocooned in warmth. Something huge and solid is pressed against my back and curled around my waist. I’m weighed down into the mattress — secure, but not trapped. I’m small. I’m safe. And it smells like heaven.

For a while, I drift between half-remembered dreams, feeling as if I’m afloat on a sea of pink bubbles. I squirm contentedly. Then, the wall of heat behind me shifts, and I’m pulled back into an even tighter embrace.

Wait…

I open my eyes — then freeze.

Roth and I might have gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but sometime during the night, we’ve both ended up in the middle. He’s spooning me from behind, with one thick arm resting under my head like a pillow, and the other wrapped around me, holding me close against his chest.

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