Page 89 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
A towel is wrapped at his waist and rivulets of water still cling to his chest and abs.
He sits on the bed behind me, takes the brush from my hand and, without a word, begins to comb through my hair.
After he loosens the tangles his fingers move careful, and he gathers my hair to braid.
A strange, soft ache spreads in my chest, I feel suddenly as if I might cry, because it feels, impossibly, like home.
I do not ask how he learned to braid. I am too afraid of the answer.
He finishes and rises without a word, a surprising softness in his gaze.
He moves to the closet and, within minutes, returns in lounge trousers and a jumper.
We go downstairs together.
Most of the others are already below. I drop onto the sofa beside Milo.
Before I can even blink, Arlo’s hand lands on Milo’s shoulder and, with a single shove, Milo tumbles off the sofa and onto the carpet, laughing outright.
“I’ll let that slide,” he wheezes between laughs, “but if it’d been anyone else, I’d have killed you.”
Arlo’s mouth quirks, I only shake my head. “You’re impossible,” I murmur.
Octavia appears next, only in fluffy shorts and a loose tee, ridiculous oversized elf slippers on her feet, she drops down on the carpet by the fire.
The television drones on with some sentimental Hallmark film. I know Adelaide put it on intentionally.
I might not remember the past two years of my life, but I do remember how she’s always despised those films, claims they kill brain cells just watching one, and yet no one bothers to reach for the remote.
“This is dull,” Octavia announces after ten minutes. “Let’s play something.”
She springs up, yanks open the cabinet, and begins pulling out games.
“Monopoly, chess, Cluedo, Cards Against Humanity, pick your poison.”
Adelaide arches a brow, already assessing the options. “Cluedo. At least that one requires a trace of intellect.”
Isaak’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Excellent. You’ll have no excuse when you lose.”
Her reply is smooth. “Do try me, Markev. I’d enjoy watching you struggle.”
We start the game and lose all sense of time. At some point, drinks appear, some alcoholic, some not, and a scatter of snacks covers the table.
By the end, Adelaide wins. Isaak looks positively affronted, almost ill with disbelief, and they fall into another round of bickering.
As we gather the pieces, Adelaide speaks suddenly. “I’m going heli-skiing tomorrow. Anyone keen to join, be ready by nine.”
Surprisingly—or perhaps not—everyone agrees.
Arlo and Milo mention they’ve done it before, several times in fact.
I suppress a yawn and stand from my seat on the sofa. “Goodnight. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
They each murmur something in return, as I make my way towards the stairs.
I’m halfway up when I hear footsteps behind me.
When I glance back, my eyes meet a pair of midnight blue.
