Grey light crept in through the tall windows one inch at a time.
Kyle watched it happen. The shadows on the far wall softened, then faded. The outline of the coffee table sharpened. Somewhere outside, a bus groaned to a stop and pulled away again. London was waking up, and he still hadn't moved from the armchair.
Jasmine was a warm, heavy weight against his chest. She had slept through the rest of the night without another nightmare, one small fist still bunched in his hoodie. Wolverine stood guard on the armrest exactly where she had left him.
His arm had gone numb an hour ago. He didn't shift it.
A door clicked softly down the hall.
Cassandra appeared with Junior on her hip, her hair loose and tangled from sleep, a robe wrapped around her. Junior was wide awake, the way babies always were at the worst possible hour, gumming one of his fists with total concentration.
She stopped when she saw Kyle.
