utiful yourself.” I smile back at
him. He kisses me, disentangles himself, and leans up on
his elbow, staring down at me.
his elbow, staring down at me.
“Sleep okay?” he asks.
“Yes, despite the interruption to my sleep last night.”
His grin broadens. “Hmm. You can interrupt me like
that anytime.” He kisses me again.
“How about you? Did you sleep well?”
“I always sleep well with you, Anastasia.”
“No more nightmares?”
“No.”
I frown and chance a question. “What are your
nightmares about?”
His brow creases and his grin fades. Shit—my stupid
curiosity.
“They’re flashbacks of my early childhood, or so Dr.
Flynn says. Some vivid, some less so.” His voice drops
and a distant, harrowed look crosses his face.
Absentmindedly, he begins to trace my collarbone with his
finger, distracting me.
“Do you wake up crying and screaming?” I try in vain
to joke.
He looks at me, puzzled. “No, Anastasia. I’ve never
cried. As far as I can remember.” He frowns, as if
reaching into the depths of his memories. Oh no—that’s
too dark a place to go at this hour, surely.
“Do you ha一ve any happy memories of your
childhood?” I ask quickly, mainly to distract him. He looks
pensive for a moment, still running his finger along my skin.
“I recall the crack whore baking. I remember the smell.
A birthday cake I think. For me. And then there’s Mia’s
arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was worried
arrival with my mom and dad. My mom was worried
about my reaction, but I adored baby Mia immediately.
My first word was Mia. I remember my first piano lesson.
Miss Kathie, my tutor, was awesome. She kept horses,
too.” He smiles wistfully.
“You said your mom sa一ved you. How?”
His reverie is broken, and he gazes at me as if I don’t
understand the elementary math of two plus two.
“She adopted me,” he says simply. “I thought she was
an angel when I first met her. She was dressed in white
and so gentle and calm as she examined me. I’ll never
forget that. If she’d said no or if Carrick had said no . . .”
He shrugs and g
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