Page 17 of In Stockings
“But TwinkleToes doesn’t have to go?”
“Lyra –”
“I don’t mind staying and watching Lyra for you,” I say.
“Astrid, that’s very kind, but –”
“I’m DBS checked if you’re worried –”
“No. No! But we can’t ask you to do that.”
“Yes, you can,” Lyra interjects.
“Yes, you can,” I agree. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
He meets my eyes, the green darkening. His look suggests he hopes we could be more.
I suppress a shiver.
Is that wishful thinking?
“If you’re sure,” Craig says.
“I am.”
He twists his head back to Lyra. “You need to be a good girl. Go to bed when Astrid says, and no monkey business.”
“I promise, Daddy.”
“Good, now give me a kiss.”
She purses her lips and kisses his lips, and my ovaries actually combust right there and then. Poof, they’re little piles of ash.
“Don’t worry,” I tell Craig, “I’m very strict.”
He lifts a sceptical eyebrow at me, and I place my hands on my hips and give him my not-taking-any-bullshit pose. “Hmmm.”
He steps towards me, and before I know what’s happening, he’s kissing my cheek, his hand resting on my hip too.
“Thank you, Astrid.”
And then he’s dashing out the door behind the other two, leaving me all flustered with a pair of destroyed ovaries.
4
Archie
The streetlamps have been extinguishedby the time we slump in through the front door, exhausted, stinking of smoke and covered in soot.
The blaze took six hours to bring under control, and we had to evacuate people from their flats, rescuing a young family from an upper window and another shut down in the basement. I’m heartbroken for those families who lost their homes right before Christmas but relieved no one was seriously hurt.
A heaviness and weariness that always hangs over me once the adrenaline of the firefight drains away lifts when I see the little omega curled up under a blanket on our sofa. Her dark braid peeks out from under the blanket, and the material rises and falls softly with her breathing.
I place my finger on my lips and motion to the others with my head. They come and stand around me at the doorway of the living room.
“We can’t send her home,” Craig whispers.
“I’ll carry her up to the guestroom.” I step into the room, claiming the honour before the others can snatch it from me.
