"Yeah. You didn't spend time with your family to celebrate the New Year? That's really sad." She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "Tell me more."
"Then tell me more about your childhood," she suggested, her voice hinting at sleepiness. "I don't hear a lot about it."
"Your mom taught you to cook, right?" she asked, turning her face into his chest. "Did you learn that when you were really young?"
"Do you?" she asked, her voice growing heavy with sleep. "I worry about that sometimes..." She fell silent as she dozed off lightly, turning her head into his chest.
Poppy shifted slightly, murmuring in her sleep. The first thing he would notice would be the bruises on her collarbones and shoulders. They were deep and purple and they traveled down her arms.
Her knuckles were bloody and as she stretched, her shirt exposed her midriff, hinting at even deeper bruises on her ribs. She sighed and stretched under the blanket.
She rested her head on his shoulder, murmuring warmly in her sleep. She woke up a little less than an hour later, her eyes fluttering open. “Oh, damn it,” she muttered, shifting sleepily. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?”
