Page 121 of Cashmere Cruelty

And, lastly,What was I dreaming about again?

As my senses slowly come back to me, I realize there’s one person missing from this equation: Charlie.

“Guest room,” April mumbles sleepily from under the blanket. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

I look down at her mess of curls, made messier by the position she slept in. I’d never seen April with bedhead. It suits her. Goofy, but endearing. Like pretty much the rest of her. “And what’s your excuse?” I ask lightly.

April just burrows deeper into me. “Comfy,” she mutters, not bothering to uncurl from the embrace.

It sparks unfamiliar warmth at the center of my chest, which I do my damnedest to fight off. It’s been a while since this has happened—waking up with another person by my side.

How strange.

I should be aching in a million different places. I should be crawling out of my skin, itching to get away. Instead, all I want to do is follow April’s example and go back to sleep.

Stay.The first time April suggested that, sex-addled and dazed, I bolted. It was instinct; it was self-preservation.

But now…

Get it together, I snarl at myself.This isn’t like back then.

This isn’t your family.

Except that it is. At least in part—the part April’s cradling inside herself. My blood. My child.

Perhaps that’s what’s driving me crazy here, making me see things that aren’t there. Because, even though it’s been years since I’ve had this, I can’t help but remember what it felt like.

Family.

Not like the family I’ve grown used to—a family on the run. Just me and Yuri against the cold, hard world. This feels different; a woman and a child, a blanket and a fireplace. The kind of family that comes without a fight.

The kind that makes you want to…

“What are you thinking about?” April murmurs into my side, lifting her messy head towards me.

You, part of me wants to tell her.Us.

Staying.

For so long, I’ve been telling myself I can’t have that: anus.Not with anyone. If family’s the only thing that can be trusted, who’s left to make one with?

I’m not going to leave myself open to betrayal. I’m not going to let anyone close enough to try. Not after my own blood turned its back on me.

And yet, when April looks up at me with those warm, hazel eyes, the color of forest floors and riverbeds…

When she looks at me like that, I almost want to risk it all again.

It’s a foolish thought. It’s the haze of sleep, I tell myself, making me cling to stupid dreams. Childish dreams. Dreams I haven’t entertained in forever.

But why not dream a little longer?

Without thinking, I draw close. April draws closer still. Our breaths are brushing against each other, lips nearly touching. This isn’t going to be like all our other kisses, I realize. This isn’t going to be hungry, desperate, passionate. This isn’t going to bephysical.

It’s a terrifying thought.

And then, just as I’m tilting up her chin, just as her lips are parting to meet mine?—

For the second time in as many days, all hell breaks loose outside my door.

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