Buck comes closer. And he brushes his hand against my cheek. “Full points for effect, trouble. Is there an audition?”
“You have to dance,” Chess deadpans behind me. “And sing.”
Buck looks mildly concerned for a moment, until I shake my head. He lets out a breath. “I mean, I would. I’m not saying it would be a winner, but I’d give it a try.”
Smiling, I glance down at his hands.
He lifts them to show me. “Still shaking. You sure you want me as part of this show?”
There’s humor in his voice, but his eyes… they’re wary.
Buck inhales sharply when I lean forward.
I press my lips to his before pulling away. “I’m sure.”
“I’ve suddenly found an additional will to survive,” Kayden murmurs. “It’s a miracle.”
Buck blinks at me, and twin spots of color flare on his cheeks as he reaches a hand to rub his neck. “You and me both.”
I turn to look at Hatter. He smiles at me, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he gets up. “I’m going to take a shower. Use one of those toothbrushes.”
My stomach flips as he vanishes behind the door.
“He’s a complicated man,” Buck says quietly. “But a good one.”
My brows crease as I stare at that closed door. “I know.”
***
I roll over, punching my pillow in irritation and nearly catching Chess in the face.
“Can’t sleep?”
Pausing, I glance across the room. Aiden and Kayden are both watching me, their blue eyes a deep, dark sapphire even under the nasty strip lighting they never fucking turn off.
When I shake my head, they glance at each other.
Both of them stand up, and push their beds together. Aiden settles back down, and holds out his hand in a silent question.
I look down at Chess’s sleeping face.
He doesn’t stir as I slide my legs out of bed. The floor feels like ice beneath my feet as I dart across the room, climbing up between them. They shift apart to make space, and Kayden pulls his pillow out from behind him.
I shake my head. “Don’t do that.”
When Aiden pats his leg, I frown.
“Lay down.” A small smile appears. “I’m comfortable.”
He is comfortable. His thigh is solid beneath my head, but his fingers brush through my hair, playing with it. “Bad dreams?”
From this position, I can clearly see Hatter across the room. He’s sleeping, or pretending to.
He’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why.
“I don’t need bad dreams,” I whisper finally. “Reality is bad enough.”
I’m not superhuman.
