Page 26 of If Only In Our Dreams

“Yes,” I released his chin reluctantly, and he stiffened right back up, like my touch had been what was holding him together.“Thank you.”

Robin blinked, surprised. Like he’d expected the worst and didn’t know what to do now that he hadn’t gotten it.

“I’m poison.”

His earlier words fluttered around inside my head, making my heart ache for him as I chose my next words very carefully.

He looked like he needed a nap. Fifty naps. A hundred naps. There was something wild and slap-happy about the way he was moving, like he wasn’t entirely in control of himself. But his pupils weren’t abnormally dilated, so I knew he wasn’t high, and I could tell based on looks alone that it had to have been a while since he rested.

Maybe the B&B made it difficult?

Hell, I had a hard time sleeping when I was in an unfamiliar place.

Add on the fact that Miles was still in school, as was Bubba—and that meant that for most of the day, Robin was left on his own in a foreign place with no friends, no car, and nothing to do—and yeah. I could see why he’d latched onto me.

Why he’d have a hard time resting.

Despite the fact we’d only had two conversations—three now—I was more familiar than anything else here.

“I have a few things I can’t push back,” I lied gently, speaking quickly enough it wouldn’t give him time to get disappointed again. “Why don’t you lie down on my couch and take a nap while I finish up? Then I can come help you.”

He needed to rest, and I hoped I could trick him into it.

“A nap?” Robin looked dubiously at me. “I’m not a little kid.” The longing when he glanced at the buttery soft, red leather sofa in the back corner of the room spoke volumes, however.

“Believe me, I know that.” I glanced at his chest, and the nipple piercings that poked through the fabric, my pulse thrumming. “Humor me? I’ll drive us over when I’m done.”

Robin squinted at me, like he was trying to get a read on me but couldn’t. When I didn’t give in, he simply sighed, slid off my desk with a thunk and wandered his way toward the couch.

“You can take your shoes off,” I told him, turning back to my papers, even though there was no way in hell I’d be able to get anything done with him here with me.

He set his femur on the floor, flopped onto the couch, and reached for the many, many buckles on his combat boots.Click, click, click,he slid them open.

“There’s a blanket in the cupboard to your left.”

“A blanket,” he mumbled, confused. After tugging his boots off, Robin rose to his feet, socked and far shorter than he’d been before. He looked kind of vulnerable like this, and I letmyself stare as he turned his back to me and rifled through the cupboard looking for what he wanted. “Crows?” He pulled a blanket out, the pink fabric splattered with cartoon crows.

“Jane’s favorite animal.”

“Cool, me too.” He grinned back at me and climbed back onto the couch. Rolling onto his back, the blanket clutched close, Robin sighed.

“You’ll need to unfold it,” I teased him, and Robin flipped me off with a snort before doing just that. Snuggled down, he stared up at the ceiling. His cheeks were bright pink, but there was a pleased little curl to his lips as he twisted his head to look at me. Already, his eyes were drooping.

“You like Christmas shit?” Robin asked with a yawn. He stared at me, waiting expectantly.

“Of course,” I lied. I’d never been big on Christmas. I celebrated because it was something we did, and after I’d become a father I hadn’t wanted my children to go without. I knew I was somewhat of a Scrooge, and I didn’t want that to ruin the holidays for everyone else.

“Really?” Robin perked up, some of the sleepiness fading. He blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes open. “Because they do these matinees down at the theater—with Christmas movies. And I thought it might be fun to go.”

“That does sound fun.”

It did not sound fun. I did not watch movies unless my children insisted. It wasn’t something I’d ever enjoyed.

“And there’s like…a market thing too? I thought that might be fun.” Robin yawned again, then frowned, betrayed by his own sleepiness. “Andsledding.” His words were syrupy and slow. “Holy fuck. Ialwayswanted to go sledding.”

“Do you want me to go with you to these things?” I stared at him, curious.

“I mean…” he shrugged a shoulder—what I was coming to recognize was his signature move. “Doyou…want to go to them?” He bit his lip. “With me?”

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