My own August bumps my knee with his. I guess this other August did try to kill him. But since then, he’s been really nice. He also tried to save both of us. And if we’ve learned anything, it’s that no Augusts are perfect.
“That’s really kind.” Assassin August glances at Jon when he says it, catching his eye easily, since Jon seems barely able to keep his eyes off August.
“Won’t that be bad?” says Jon. “All you Augusts in there together? Aren’t you supposed to be not doing that?”
My August dips his head to rest it on my shoulder. “Have you got a better idea, Jon?” He glances up at me with a quiet smile.
“Would it maybe help if—and you know, this is just an idea that just came to me, just now… but do you think it would help if… Because I’ve got space…” Glancing at Assassin August again. “Only if you wanted to.”
“Oh.” Assassin August sits up like a puppy who’s just heard a tin being opened. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s not imposing. I have plenty of room.”
“I mean, only if you’re really sure.”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Because you don’thaveto. I could sleep in the van.”
“Oh. Did you want to sleep in the van?”
“I don’t mean that Iwantto—I—it’s only if…”
August chuckles and drops a kiss on my cheek.
They’re adorable.
Not as adorable as us, but it’s sweet to watch.
We let them prattle on for the rest of the trip, my eyes getting heavier with every kilometre, until eventually we’re able to say our goodnights with an agreement they’ll come see us tomorrow.
Finally alone together, August and I stumble into my small but increasingly adored little flat, turn on the heater, crawl into bed, and sleep for a solid twelve hours.
CHAPTER FIFTY
ACTUALLY NOT SO
BAD AUGUST
It’s late afternoon the following day when I finally open my eyes.
August’s room. August’s bed.
It’s incredibly peaceful in here, nothing but the rhythmic patter of rain on the window, accompanied by the occasional reassuring swish of a car somewhere.
I’m the perfect temperature, knowing it’s crisp just beyond the window, but in here, it’s magnificent.
August’s side is flush with mine, his skin radiating that now-familiar throb of pleasure. I roll over, slipping an arm around his waist. It’s only when his hand drifts up to cover my wrist that I notice he’s awake. Wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
My stomach sinks.
The kiss I place on his shoulder brings a little smile to his face, a softening of the hard eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
That pretend smile I know too well. “Nothing.”
“Are you worried about whether we put it back right?”
