Cass hadn't had such a restful sleep in a long, long time.
He wondered if it was because he'd cried several times the previous day, then had a good start to the day, an okay middle, and then a good ending to the day as well. There was that rough patch near the end, but that was where all the tears had come from.
Whatever the true answer was, Cass woke up feeling better than he had in ages.
The birds were chirping, sunlight streamed into the room through drapey, pretty curtains, and Cass was enfolded in warmth.
A man was pressed against either side of him. Edgar was curled against Cass' chest, his expression soft in his slumber. His hands folded near his head, cradling it in a soft way that made him look like a damn painting. Cass was upset, not for the first time, that he didn't have a camera in this world.
This would have been the perfect shot.
