Leslie buried his face against her shoulder, nodding. He was exhausted, emotionally, and held her hand tighter still. He let go only to shrug out of his hoodie, leaving him in a shirt so worn that its logo had gone out, soft from years of wear. Shoes next, and then he went right back to clinging to Abbi's hand, curling around her in a bed that proved to be so much warmer-safer-softer-more-like-home than his own.

A nap would do him good: she knew him so well.

AyeAvast