Page 21 of Hush, Little Baby

“I know, baby.”

He opens it with one hand, practiced and easy, like everything belongs in his hands if he decides to touch it. I watch through heavy, wet lashes as he slips out my ID.

The little rectangle looks so foreign between his big fingers.

“Constantine.”

Constantine takes it from him without hesitation. “Yeah.”

There’s the faint sound of a phone unlocking, then tapping, then the soft hum of expensive car tires over the road.

I suck gently on Nikolaus’s thumb because I don’t know what else to do with my mouth, with my fear, and with the little whine that keeps trying to climb up my throat.

His eyes drop to my lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, so quiet I don’t think he means for anyone but me to hear.

My face gets hot again, and I look down, but there’s nowhere to look that isn’t him. His coat. His shirt. His big arm around my waist. His thighs beneath me.

I feel tiny.

Smaller than I ever feel on my own.

Small in a way that should scare me.

Small in a way that makes some secret place inside me curl up and sigh.

Constantine starts speaking again, his voice lower now, businesslike. “Charlie Palmer,” he says. “Twenty-five. Birthday in six days.”

Nikolaus’s hand pauses between my shoulders. “We’ll need to make plans.”

Constantine continues, “Address is local. Apartment complex on the east side.”

Nikolaus makes a displeased sound in his chest.

I keep my eyes shut.

I know what my apartment looks like. I know about the peeling wall, the flickering kitchen light, and the roach poop that stains the printouts from the doctors’ offices.

I know it isn’t good, but it’s mine.

Was mine.

Maybe.

My fingers curl weakly against Nikolaus’s shirt.

His hand moves to my side, petting me there now, fingers sweeping over the curve of my side through the thick cotton of my hoodie. It’s such a strange touch—so familiar when he has no right to be familiar, so careful when everything else he’s done has been the opposite of careful.

“Employment?” Nikolaus asks.

“Patchy,” Constantine says. “Part-time. Looks like he’s bounced around a bit. Mainly some work from home gigs.”

Because I get tired.

Because my body stops working.

Because sometimes standing feels like climbing out of a grave with a backpack full of rocks.