Page 54 of If Only In Our Dreams

I rubbed my eyebrow with my ring finger, shrugging again, because I wasn’t about to crack my chest open like that, even for Miles, who had the softest, gentlest hands in the history of the world. My heart was brittle enough to shatter, even in his grip.

“You wanna help me paint?” I offered instead.

Miles, because again, he was an angel, nodded.

And paint we did, for hours, till the sun set and I followed him home like a lost puppy—desperate to find my place in this perfect little world he’d built.

It was on Wednesday night that I received an unexpected visitor. I’d just arrived home from picking up the twins and was in the process of wrangling them out of their winter gear—god, it was like herding cats—when there was a knock at the front door.

Mama had already fed them, thank God. So it was playtime, storytime, then bed.

Jane’s coat was half unzipped, and Rosie still had one of her shoes on as I groaned in frustration and rose to deal with the door. “Donotrun off to your room,” I warned them both sternly, “Please? Papa is exhausted and does not have the energy to chase you down or clean your muddy boot prints off the floor.”

I’d just deal with this really quick, and then I could finish taking care of the twins.

Maybe it was Baxter? Sometimes he popped by to bring us leftovers. He was sweet like that. I had no idea what he saw in my brother, Paxton, but enjoyed his pastries way too much to openly question it.

Without checking the peephole—because this was Belleville—I tugged the door open with what I hoped was a smile, but was probably more of a grimace.

Work today had been long and grueling.

I loved my job, I really did. I wouldn’t have spent half my life in school for it if I didn’t.

But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t exhausting sometimes. That having everyone and their dog show up all in a row wasn’t enough to make me feel like my head was going to explode. It was Wednesday. Which was admin day.

Had I gotten any admin done?

No.

Not at all.

So fucking frustrating.

I maybe yanked the door a little too hard. Hard enough it slammed into the wall, making a horrible sound that made both twins startle, and…

Oh fuck.

Robin jumped.

Because of course it was Robin at my door after dark, dressed—again—in his ill-fitting winter clothes, his green eyes wide. He stared at the door, then me, then shrank a little. He looked scared. Of me. He looked scaredof me.

Oh dear god, what had I done?

“No, no, no,” I soothed without thinking. “It’s okay.”

Robin had taken a half-step back, and that made me want to die.

“Sorry!” Robin blurted, eyes wide like a skittish animal. “You’re probably busy. I should’ve called—except I don’t have your number. And it felt weird to ask Miles for it. Creepy kinda? I dunno.”

We were both far too concerned about appearing creepy for our own good.

“I’m not busy,” I said, pushing aside the day’s frustration. I let it seep away, took a steadying breath, and reached out for him. He didn’t flinch—thank God, but he did look nervous as I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Would you like to come in?”

“No,” Robin blurted and then laughed. “I mean, yes. Of course I do.” He peeked around my shoulder at the twins, gave a happy wave, and then his eyes narrowed as he took in the space behind them. The long wooden hallway. The grandfather clock at the end of it. The ornate rugs, and the kitchen island that was visible from the door.

“Then come on in,” I pulled on him, but he resisted.

After ogling my home for another greedy second, Robin sucked in a breath, his heels digging in. “I finished the thing,” he told me, eyes bright and manic. There was a smudge of something black on his cheek. Paint, maybe?

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