Shall We

Havermouth, Present Time

Aislen woke from a deep sleep between Rhett and Cameron. A hole in the wooden divider wall shed a fragile light into the room, just enough so that she could run her worried gaze over Rhett. He was looking better, she decided, his face less waxy pale, his eyes less shadowed. His cheekbones still stood out too prominently against his skin, emphasized by the dark shadow of a couple of day’s stubble, but he didn’t seem to be losing more weight.

She hovered on the edge of sleep and awake, admiring the heavy fall of his hair, and the fullness of his lips, until her bladder demanded action. Rhett’s eyes opened as she eased out from Cameron’s arm. She touched his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

Cameron sat up, bleary eyed. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” Aislen ruffled her fingers through his hair. “But I’ll go downstairs and empty cans into the saucepan if you two are?”

“Not yet,” Rhett’s eyes were almost closed and his face was relaxing ba