Page 111 of The Fall

Warm light spilled from Cat’s house, the door opening before they’d even set foot on the porch. “I’ll give you a better tour in the morning, but for now, the lav is just across the hall from your bedroom.”

Lusa set Kerr down gently, but left her arm around her shoulders. “It’s a little different than your flat,” she said apologetically.

Kerr kept her thoughts to herself until she saw the room. The bed looked like a giant pillow and furs covered nearly every surface. If warmth could look like something, this would be it.

“Is this okay?” Tiny lines stretched across Lusa’s forehead.

Kerr brought a hand to her eye, wiping away a hot tear. She wasn’t used to feeling skin from that hand. “This is too much.” The words came out shakier than she had intended.

“It’s different than what you’re used to, I’m sure, but you’ll get sick of it. Nothing ever really changes here.” Lusa thought of the limited dating pool. The same training runs. The same trap lines. Her mothers’ ever-present concern. Her sisters’ constant need for attention. A future so clearly defined, yet so far away that she would never grasp it.

“I changed.” Kerr took her hand. Her fingers felt too soft. Too new.

Lusa’s eyes turned inquisitive and then relaxed. Like she wanted to ask a question but decided she wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

Kerr pulled her face close. “What are you worried about?”

A long pause. Lusa avoided Kerr’s eyes, searching for the words that might be hiding under the furs. On the floor. Beyond the window. But Kerr wouldn’t give up. She’d learned enough about Lusa to know that the most dangerous person here needed time to believe she was safe. “I’m worried that you’ll get bored here.”

“I might.” Kerr ran her thumb along Lusa’s cheek. “But I think I could use some boredom after everything.”

It did little to assuage her. Even if the words were sweet, like sugar, they held no water. Non-committal answers when she knew Lusa wanted something concrete. Lusa took a deep breath and swallowed another question.

“I can’t promise I won’t break your heart.” Kerr knew the reaction she would provoke and she was ready for it. She held Lusa’s face tightly, forcing her to look her in the eye. “Though your mom has already warned me about that.”

A soft chuckle. Kerr was grateful for the slight release of tension. “I can’t promise you won’t break mine either. We haven’t earned that sort of certainty yet.”

That seemed to break through Lusa’s defences. Certainty wasn’t there, but it was on the table. She wasn’t being used. Love was a tangible possibility.

“I understand you have quite the fan club,” Kerr continued. Lusa rolled her eyes, but the lopsided smile said she enjoyed the validation. “I can’t promise I won’t get jealous.”

The muscles in her neck tightened under Kerr’s fingertips. “I would never…”

“I know,” Kerr said. “It’s not you. It’s me. I need to work on that.” The unspoken part – that Lusa could step away from the edge, that her guard could relax, that her heart would be treated with care, was found in the deep brown of her eyes. They could both work for each other, and whatever happened, come out better people on the other side.

“Will you stay with me?” Kerr’s voice sounded small in the overly plush room.

“It’s my grandma’s house.” Lusa shifted uncomfortably. “That would be kind of weird.”

“Just sleep, I mean.” Kerr trailed her fingers up Lusa’s forearm. “Please?”

Lusa acquiesced and turned to make the bed.

“Remember that time you told me to turn off my cyberware so you could show me what it was like to be cold and then warm?” Kerr found herself reflexively focusing to access her control panel. She wondered how long it would take her to stop doing that.

“You mean two days ago?” Lusa had removed her clothes and nestled under the covers. She held the edge of the blanket open.

Kerr slipped inside. Cyberware taking the edge off of every experience hadn’t spared her discomfort, but only now did she understand why old writers opined about small pleasures.”

She sunk into the mattress, too big with Lusa’s too strong arms pulling her into her crescent body that felt too perfect against skin too soft.

For long minutes in the darkness, absent the din and ever-present neon of the city, Lusa’s breath trickled across the back of her neck. Deep and controlled, Lusa couldn’t even let something as simple as sleep master her.

“Lusa?”

A flutter of eyelashes flitted against the back of Kerr’s neck.

“Can you call me Caoimhe?”