Page 127 of Should the Sky Fall

In the morning, he wakes to someone gently calling his name. He blinks his eyes open to see Dawson’s concerned face.

“Cal? Did you sleep here?”

He heaves himself up into a seated position and rubs his eyes. “I got up in the night to use the bathroom. When I came back, Donut took over my spot.”

Dawson laughs, then stops when he sees Cal is serious. “You could’ve just moved him.”

Cal gives him a flat look. “He was going tokillme, Dawson.”

“Oh my god.” Dawson covers his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Cal’s not sure how he feels about Dawson laughing at his misfortune. This is serious! “Please don’t go sleep in a different room. Just wake me up and I’ll move him for you.” His smile drops and his eyes widen. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you? I promise, once he gets used to you—”

“I’m not having second thoughts,” Cal tells him. “Not a chance. This is Donut’s home now and we’re his family. Whether he likes it or not,” he adds with an eye roll. “He’s not going back.”

Dawson releases a breath and nods. “I need to walk him first but then I’ll make breakfast.”

Cal moves back the covers and stands up. “I can walk him. Spend somequality timetogether.”

Dawson barks out a laugh. “Oh, he’ll love that.”

Chapter 21

“You’renervous,”Ashpointsout—quite unnecessarily—when Dawson finds himself in the therapist's office three days later. His assumption that, after practically cutting himself open last time, it would be smooth—well, smoother—sailing was wrong. He thought that things were complicated two weeks ago, but that’s nothing compared to the mayhem that his life is now.

“Excellent deduction skills, Sherlock,” he snarks without any real bite. Ash’s cool composure simply annoys him. And he’s not totally oblivious—he knows that Ash gets some weird kick out of making him squirm. He wonders if all therapists are like that or if Ash is just a dick.

“Hmm,” Ash hums, wearing that all-knowing, infuriating smile. “Using snark as a defense mechanism. You must beverynervous.” He leans forward in his chair, opening his hands before clasping them together. “Why? It’s our second appointment.”

“There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Care to share?”

“Not really, no.”

There’s a familiar glint in Ash’s eye, telling Dawson he’s enjoying the back and forth all too much. The fucker. As Dawson stares back at him, something catches his attention. He’s not one for ogling people. In fact, he’s terrible with faces, let alone other details, but he’d swear that Ash’s irises were an unusual steel-blue color. Now they look more green?

He shakes the thought away. It must just be a trick of the light. His eyes change color too, depending on the lighting.

“How are things with Cal?”

Okay, then. “Straight for the jugular, huh?”

“Would you prefer we talk about the weather?”

“It’s been getting warmer, ey?”

Ash’s shoulders shake as he laughs, and it takes him a few seconds to calm down so he can talk, his tone more serious again. “Why are you nervous?”

“You want it alphabetically or chronologically?”

Ash flashes him a grin. “Dawson.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll have to say.”

“About?”

Dawson looks away, his gaze catching on the plushie he’d used for emotional support during his first visit. It only makes him think back on the day at the mall, the claw machine and Cal winning a plushie for him, looking so proud and happy that Dawson couldn’t possibly stand it and had to—

“I think you know.”