I can?—
“Tennison!”
My eyes fly open, and my fist connects with something hard that softens as it falls away.
“Get off me!” I scramble backward.
“London! London, it’s me, Davies.” His shoulders are heaving, his blue eyes tight with worry, his hand rubbing his jaw. “It’s just me, you’re okay.”
“I—”
I pull my knees up to my chest.
Fuck.
How long has it been since I . . .
“I could hear you all the way down the hallway.” He softens, sending a hand through his hair.
He’s shirtless.
And I just noticed.
“W-what time is it?” I rasp, hugging my arms around my body.
“Around two. You okay? Can grab you a cup of tea or something?”
A pained chuckle rattles me before it disintegrates into a sad sigh. That particular nightmare hasn’t been in my head for years now. I must have had too much stimulation.
I’m going to have to get used to that, I guess.
“Nah, mate, I’m good. Thanks, Davies.”
“Davey. Friends call me Davey.” He smiles at me. It’s empathetic, a kindness I so rarely see.
“Oh, so we’re friends now, yeah?” I return the smile.
“Oh yeah, forged in a chili-hazing fire. Those who chili together, stay together.”
“You’re something else, you know. Like sunshine or something.”
He huffs an amused sound.
“What?”
“My grandma thinks so, too.”
“Oh, you’re close to her?”
“You could say that, since I live with her.”
“Seriously?” I lean forward. “That’s sweet. I never met my grandmother.”
Because she washed her hands of Mama when she married the man she’d warned her about. Somedays it makes me so angry. Why abandon your daughter when you know, down in your bones, she’s going to need you?
That’s so damn backward.
But Mama made a choice, too.
