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“Home sweet home,” Kate said, unclipping Lucky’s lead as she slipped her key into the lock of her front door. “You glad to be back?”
Lucky stared up at her with big brown eyes.
Kate had no idea if that was a yes.
She wasn’t even sure if she was glad to be back herself. A week ago, if someone had told Kate she’d be spending Christmas with Clint and Laura Barton, Kate would have laughed hard enough to pull something. But she’d had fun, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, embraced into the Barton’s family traditions without any of them blinking an eye. They’d treated Kate like she was one of them, like she belonged, and now here she was, back in the city she’d always been proud to call home.
Except now it didn’t feel like home. Now it felt tainted, dirty, lonely because her father was gone and her mother was locked away, and Clint was back in Missouri and Kate was here, lost and adrift and without a mission—
Not that she was being dramatic, or anything.
“At least I’ve got you, huh, buddy?” Kate leaned down to give Lucky a pat on the head as she pushed open the door. He streaked past her, soon disappearing from view, and Kate was three steps inside when she realized that something was wrong.
The window was open, the air inside freezing, and she could hear the sound of something rattling in the kitchen.
Kate notched an arrow, the movement as familiar as breathing, the strings of her bow taut as she stepped around the corner, ready for anything. The tracksuit mafia might have been decimated during the fight at the Rockefeller Centre, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still members out there—members who knew exactly where she lived—and Kate didn’t believe for a second that Kingpin hadn’t walked away from their fight. And there was Maya, too. Kate couldn’t believe how many enemies she’d managed to make in the last two weeks.
A few days with Clint, and her whole life had been turned upside down.
Worth it, though, Kate decided, creeping forward as silently as she could manage. She wouldn’t change a second of it.
“You can put the bow down,” a familiar voice said, the words rough with that unmistakable Russian accent. “I am not here to hurt you.”
Kate might have been ready for anything, but the sight of Yelena Belova standing in her living room wearing—yep, a pair of Kate’s sweatpants hanging low on her hips—and cooing over Lucky had her speechless.
“W-what are you doing here?” Kate said, when she’d regained the necessary functions needed to form a full sentence, lowering the bow and slipping the arrow back into her quiver.
“You owe me a drink,” Yelena said, like that explained anything, and Kate could only stare dumbly as Yelena dropped to her knees, Lucky’s head flopping into her lap, his tail swishing across the floor as Yelena scratched behind his ears.
Traitor.
“I-what?”
“You don’t remember?” Yelena looked offended. “You said we should grab a drink. Or was that just a ploy to try and distract me?”
“It…no.” Not a ploy. Word-vomit in response to Yelena’s close proximity, maybe. But really, who could blame her? Yelena was drop-dead gorgeous, even when she was brushing Kate aside so she could carry on trying to murder Clint.
Had that been the best time to try and ask her on a date?
No, but Kate had never been smooth when it came to pretty women with dazzling smiles.
“Good.” Yelena hopped to her feet with an easy grace, and Kate struggled not to stare.
“Wait, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” Wearing Kate’s clothes. And—Kate looked around, realizing that her apartment was different to the last time she was here. There was still fire and water damage, but it had been cleaned up. It was livable. “Have you…have you been staying here?”
Yelena’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I didn’t know when you’d be back.”
“So you just invited yourself inside?!” Okay, Kate might not have any game, but Yelena was something else entirely. She’d never met anyone like her.
Kate was already smitten.
“I cleaned up,” Yelena said, like that made a little light B&E acceptable. “I even got you a new couch. And a four-piece set of cutlery. You are welcome.”
“I…” Kate glanced at her new couch—a black leather three-seater that definitely looked out-of-place amongst the rest of her tatty things—and sighed. “Thank you.”
“And if you didn’t want someone to break in, you should have better security.”
Kate shook her head. “I have a feeling even the world’s greatest security wouldn’t keep you out of somewhere you really wanted to be.”
“You flatter me, Kate Bishop. But you are correct.” For some reason, Yelena’s arrogance only made her more attractive. “You should probably at least fix the broken window, though. It is very easy to get in here.”
“You worried about me?”
“It was be a shame if you died because of your incompetence.”
Kate huffed out a laugh. “Incompetence, huh? I managed to hold my own in a fight with you.”
Yelena shot her a disbelieving look. “I thought we’d already discussed this? If I wanted you dead, you would be. I can think of…at least twenty ways to kill you where you stand right now.”
Kate swallowed. Maybe teasing the deadly Russian assassin leaning against the back of her couch wasn’t such a good idea. No matter how good she looked in Kate’s clothes. “Twenty?”
“Would you like me to list them?” Yelena sounded earnest, and Kate was quick to shake her head. Some things were better left unsaid.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Kate dropped her bag to the floor and threw herself onto the couch, letting the exhaustion of travelling back from Missouri catch up with her. “You know you have my phone number, right? You could have just called to find out when I’d be home.”
“That is less fun.” Yelena perched beside her on the couch, her back against the arm.
Kate had noticed Clint doing the same thing; keeping all of the exits within line-of-sight, constantly on high-alert, ready for the next threat.
“Besides,” Yelena continued, smiling in delight when Lucky clambered onto her lap, “I like it here. It has…character.”
Kate glanced around. The place had been a mess before it had been set on fire. “Character?”
“Yes. Better than expensive hotel rooms.”
Kate wasn’t so sure she agreed. “And my clothes?”
“They looked comfortable.”
Kate thought of Yelena rifling through her things and swallowed. What if she’d seen Kate’s underwear? The ratty old pairs no other human was ever supposed to see? Oh, God, she hadn’t gone through the drawers beside Kate’s bedside, had she? She felt her cheeks get hot at the thought of Yelena accidentally stumbling on her vibrator.
And where had Yelena been sleeping? In her bed?
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” Yelena asked, peering at Kate with wide eyes.
“I—no.” Yelena made Kate feel many things, but discomfort wasn’t one of them. Should be, probably, considering the casual I-know-over-twenty-ways-to-kill-you comments, but didn’t that just go to show Kate could trust her?
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Kate rose to her feet so she didn’t squirm beneath the weight of Yelena’s gaze. It felt too heavy, too intense—made Kate feel like she was one second away from spilling all her deepest, darkest secrets—and she needed to put some distance between them.
“Where are you going?”
“To get you that drink.” Kate padded into the kitchen, having no idea what she’d find in there. “What do you want? I have”—she began rooting through cupboards—“tequila, gin, terrible beer, and…oh! Vodka.” Kate pulled out the bottle and blew away the fine layer of dust that covered the label. Vodka didn’t have an expiration date, right?
She turned around, meaning to ask Yelena her opinion on the matter—and nearly had a heart attack when she found the woman herself right behind her.
“Jesus Christ.” Kate pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the frantic thudding of her heart beneath her palm. “How are you so silent?”
“I am an assassin, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, her smile wolfish. “I am trained in these things.”
“Did you have a class on sneaking up on people? How do you even train to be an assassin, anyway? Is there a school for that kind of thing?”
Yelena’s expression darkened, her eyes turning stormy, and Kate had the distinct impression she’d just asked the wrong question.
She should have known, really. Assassin training couldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows, could it?
“Not a school, no.” Yelena’s voice was ten degrees colder, and Kate shivered. “A…program. The Red Room.” Yelena’s lip curled around the words, her hatred written across her face. “I was taken by them when I was six years old.”
Six?! Kate was horrified. No wonder Yelena had zero social skills and thought randomly popping up in someone’s apartment was acceptable.
“Jesus, Yelena, that’s…I’m so sorry.”
Yelena’s eyebrows crinkled into a frown. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t put me through it.”
“No, but it’s just…it’s just a thing that people say.”
“Americans are weird.”
Kate huffed out a laugh, and Yelena’s face split into a smile, her somber mood seemingly diffused, and Kate gave herself an imaginary pat on the back.
“Yeah, we are. So.” Kate held up the bottle. “Vodka?”
“That is not proper vodka,” Yelena said, eyeing the label in distaste. “But I suppose it will do.” She snatched the bottle from Kate’s hand. Their fingers brushed, and Kate sternly told her heart to calm the fuck down after it skipped a beat at Yelena’s touch.
She watched as Yelena grabbed two glasses and poured a generous measure of alcohol into them both. “Here.”
Kate eyed the glass she’d been handed with trepidation. “You’re not going to use a mixer?”
“That is not the proper way to drink vodka.” Yelena clinked her glass against Kate’s before taking a hefty gulp, looking at Kate expectantly when she didn’t follow suit.
Okay, I can do this. I can drink this straight. Just pretend it’s water, and it’ll be fine.
Except when she took a sip, it hit the back of her throat, pungent and strong, Kate’s eyes starting to stream as she coughed.
Thankfully, nothing squirted out of her nose. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to live with the indignity.
Yelena roared with laughter as she got a look at Kate’s face, clapping her on the back with enough force to make Kate wince. “Oh, Kate Bishop, you are too funny!”
“Glad I entertain you,” Kate said, when she felt like she could speak again. She set the glass down on the countertop, because there was no way in hell she could take another sip of it.
“You do,” Yelena said, the sparkle in her eyes making Kate’s stomach swoop. “Very much.”
“So, um,” Kate’s brain scrabbled around for something to say, something to distract her from thinking about the shape of Yelena’s smile, of how it would feel pressed against her mouth, because Yelena was an assassin, goddammit, had tried to murder Clint, and Kate should absolutely not be thinking about pressing her into the countertop and kissing her senseless. “Have you managed to see any of the city?”
Yelena’s smile widened, child-like joy filling her face. “Yes! I saw the Statue of Liberty and I went up the Empire State building and I ate greasy New York pizza. I did miss out on the big tree, though.” Her eyes narrowed into a playful glare, and Kate blushed.
“I had no other choice.”
“You could have left him up there. Called the fire department to get him down.”
Kate didn’t think Clint would like being compared to a cat stuck up a tree.
“Made it easier for you to try to kill him, you mean?”
“Easier.” Yelena scoffed. “Like I needed any help.”
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?”
Yelena bristled, and Kate swallowed. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.
“Only because I let him live.”
“Right. Yeah. I’m glad you did, by the way. It would have sucked if I had to avenge his death.”
Yelena blinked at her—and then nearly doubled over laughing. “You? Avenge him by killing me? Oh, you are hilarious.”
Kate tried not to be offended.
“Did you enjoy spending your holidays with him?”
Kate didn’t bother asking how Yelena knew about that. “Yeah. It was nice. To feel like part of a functional family for once. And the ranch is really beautiful.”
“Natasha told me about it,” Yelena said, her voice achingly soft, gaze focused on the glass held tight in her hands. “She said it was one of the places she felt safest in the world.”
Kate knew she needed to tread carefully, Yelena’s hurt still raw and aching. “Clint told me a lot of stories about her. She sounded like a really great person.”
“She was the best.”
“You know…he’d probably be happy to tell you stories, too. Maybe it would be good for you. Both of you,” Kate said, remembering Clint’s face whenever he’d thought of Natasha.
“I don’t think he’ll want to speak to the woman that nearly killed him.”
“I think you’d be surprised. I can give you his number.”
“It is cute that you think I’d need your help for that.”
Kate’s cheeks burned.
***
“This is terrible.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s great.”
“I would rather break every bone in my hand than watch this for a second longer,” Yelena said, face the picture of seriousness.
“Wow. Are all assassins this dramatic?”
Kate ducked just in time to avoid a direct hit to the face by one of the couch cushions.
She tossed the remote to Yelena, giving her the freedom to choose whatever channel she wanted.
Apparently, she wasn’t a fan of The Bachelor.
She was a fan of cheesy Christmas movies, though, based on the way she turned to the Hallmark channel without hesitation.
Whatever. Kate could get invested in anything.
She reached toward the coffee table and grabbed a slice of pizza from the pie she’d ordered to get rid of the taste of vodka from her mouth. Lucky eyed her hopefully from his spot in-between Kate and Yelena on the couch.
“You can have yours later.”
Lucky whined and rested his head on his paws.
Kate stole a glance at Yelena around a bite of pepperoni and cheese, barely able to believe the turn her evening had taken. She never could have dreamt this scenario even in her wildest dreams—to be curled up with Yelena watching movies and eating pizza, almost like they were normal.
Almost like the last time they’d seen one another, they hadn’t been trading punches.
“Are you really only here because you were waiting for a drink?” Kate said, feeling brave in the growing darkness. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel truly at ease around Yelena—not least because she was smoking hot, and Kate had never known how to control herself around attractive women—but this was the closest she was probably going to get.
Yelena sighed. “No. But after everything, I did not know where else to go. I have no place of my own. No mission. I…I have never not had a mission before.”
“Never?”
“No.” Yelena picked at a loose thread on Kate’s sweatpants. “Never. I was taken by the Red Room at six. Forced to follow their orders for twenty-one years until a former Black Widow helped me break their mind control and set me free.”
“When you say mind control…”
“I was a husk. I had no personality. No freedom. No control. I was a weapon for them to point at whatever target they wanted, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
Kate sucked in a breath. She couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. Twenty-one years? No wonder Yelena had been overjoyed by boxed mac and cheese.
“After I was freed, my new mission was to do the same for my fellow widows. For two years, I travelled the world, tracking them down and giving them the antidote. And then…” Yelena swallowed, her jaw clenched so tight a muscle in her cheek twitched. “And then I blinked, and when I opened my eyes five years had been and gone, and my sister was dead.”
A single tear slipped from Yelena’s eye, and Kate ached for her. She knew—as shitty as the world had been during the Blip—she was one of the lucky ones. Kate couldn’t imagine losing five years just like that. Having to adjust to a world that had changed so much.
Having to come to terms with not getting the chance to say goodbye to loved ones.
Kate stretched out a hand, covering the back of Yelena’s where it rested on Lucy’s back and squeezing. “We don’t have to talk about this if it’s too painful.”
“It is okay.” Yelena didn’t move her hand away, her skin warm beneath Kate’s fingertips. “After the Blip, I freed the remaining widows. When I was done, I went to my sister’s grave to tell her I’d finished what we started. There I was approached by a woman who told me she knew who was responsible for my sister’s death.”
“Clint.”
“Yes. And now that that is done…I don’t know what to do next. A friend tells me there is good money in contract killing, and I know I am good at that.” Yelena spoke so matter-of-factly, and Kate wondered when listening to assassins having an existential crisis had become something that happened in her life. “But…”
“But?” Kate prompted, when Yelena fell silent.
“But I don’t know if I want that life anymore. Being constantly on the move, never putting down any roots. Always looking over my shoulder. Always alone. And…” Yelena hesitated, and Kate ran her thumb over the back of Yelena’s knuckles, encouraging her to continue. “After all the good she did after she left the Red Room I don’t think Natasha would approve.”
“I didn’t know Natasha,” Kate said, choosing her words carefully because she knew this was a raw topic, “but based on all of the things Clint has told me—I think she’d be proud of you no matter what you did. And it’s okay if you haven’t figured out what you want to do yet.” Kate certainly had no idea what to do with her own life anymore. Everything had changed so fast, and she was still struggling to take it all in. “But you can…you can stay here for as long as you need.”
“Really?”
Kate shrugged. “Yeah. It’d be nice to have some company. And you can protect me if someone tries to break in.”
Yelena chuckled, and Kate tried not to think about the way it made her stomach swoop. Maybe inviting Yelena to stay hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
***
Kate stared up at the ceiling, regretting all of her life choices.
Beside her, Yelena slept soundly, her breathing deep and even—and completely oblivious to the torture Kate was currently experiencing.
And torture was really the only word she had for having Yelena so close but so out of reach. Kate’s queen-sized bed suddenly felt like a single, Yelena’s body heat suffocating. She smelled like Kate’s shampoo and shower gel, and it was taking every ounce of Kate’s self-control to not reach out and pull Yelena close.
Stupid one bedroom apartment.
Stupid Kate for not insisting on sleeping on the couch, but she hadn’t been able to say no to Yelena’s pleading eyes when she’d said: “but I’ve never had a sleepover, Kate Bishop! Please?”
God, she was screwed.
Yelena whimpered, and Kate turned her head. Her face was scrunched up, looking far less peaceful than she had the last time Kate had dared to look at her. Was Yelena having a nightmare?
Another whimper, this one louder. Yelena shifted beneath the covers, her hands twisting into fists, and Kate didn’t know what to do. She didn’t think there was a saying to let sleeping assassins lie, but she was also pretty sure Yelena wouldn’t react well to being shaken awake.
But Kate couldn’t leave her, not when she looked like she was in pain. So, Kate took a deep breath, and reached out a hand, gently touching Yelena’s shoulder. “Yelena? Wake up.”
Nothing.
Kate tried again, shaking Yelena’s shoulder this time—even harder when Yelena still didn’t stir. “Yelena! You’re having a—”
Yelena exploded into motion.
It happened so quickly Kate didn’t have time to react, but suddenly Yelena was straddling her hips, one hand pressing Kate’s arm to the bed and the other wrapped around her throat.
“—nightmare,” Kate gasped, regretting it when Yelena’s fingers tightened.
Her eyes were wild, panicked, and Kate fought every one of her instincts screaming at her to retaliate, to try and shake Yelena off. She knew it would be futile.
And she knew how much Yelena must have been holding back in all their other encounters. She was solid muscle, beautiful and deadly, and Kate had never been so certain that if Yelena really wanted to hurt her, Kate wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Yelena,” Kate said, curling her free hand gently around the wrist at her throat. “It’s me.”
Kate stared up at Yelena, her vision starting to white around the edges—and saw the exact moment she came back to herself, her eyes growing wide as she released her grip.
“I-I am sorry, I didn’t…” Yelena wrenched herself away, leaping off the bed and backing away with her arms wrapped around her middle.
“It’s okay.” Kate’s chest heaved as she sucked in precious oxygen, and she pushed herself up on her elbows, eager to comfort Yelena. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“I nearly killed you.”
“Nah.” Kate refused to think of how close it had been. “I’m fine. Peachy, even.”
Yelena didn’t move, her back pressed against the wall.
“Hey.” Kate kept her voice soft, like she was trying to calm a spooked animal. “Yelena, it’s okay. Do…do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what happened.” Yelena scrubbed a hand across her face. “I have had nightmares before. Most nights, usually.”
Kate didn’t even want to imagine what Yelena dreamed about, what horrors played behind her eyelids when she closed them. She must have seen terrible things—done terrible things—and based on the look on her face, they haunted her.
“But I have never slept beside someone else before,” Yelena said, her voice soft. “I didn’t know I would react like that. I am sorry.”
Kate blamed oxygen depravation for what she said next. “I’m the first person you’ve slept with?” Realizing what she’d said, Kate’s cheeks flamed red.
“Yes. Why do you look like a tomato?”
“I…I don’t.”
“You do. You are very red, Kate Bishop. Almost luminescent. Is it because sleeping with someone is a euphemism for sex in America?”
Kate cleared her throat, wishing Yelena wasn’t so blasé—but at least it seemed to have cheered her up. Yelena looked more relaxed, her arms dropping down to her sides and a hint of a smile on her mouth.
“No.”
“It is!” Yelena chuckled. “I have had sex with many people,” Yelena said, as matter of fact as if she were telling Kate the weather. “But none that I have wanted to.”
“Oh.” Kate didn’t really know what to say about that. “I’m sorry.”
Yelena shrugged. “It is what it is. And it will not happen again now I am in control of my body. I will only do what I want to do. Go where I want to go.”
Kate tried not to think about Yelena choosing to spend the night here, with her, in her bed. “Yeah, that’s…that makes sense. Do you have a bucket list?”
Yelena cocked her head. “A list of buckets?”
Kate laughed, shifting to sit with her back against her headboard. “No. It’s a list of things you want to do before you die. Like how you were saying which parts of New York you wanted to see.”
“There are a great many things I want to do. Visit every country. Go and see a musical. Watch the sunrise on a beach. I want to experience as much as I can. Make up for the time I missed.”
“Starting with a sleepover?”
Yelena’s smile turned sad. “I hoped so. Now I see it was not a good idea. I am sorry for waking you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You weren’t sleeping?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because all I could think about was you. “I don’t know. Lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?”
Yelena shrugged. “I like learning things about people. Especially when they are avoiding answering them. Was it because of me? Do I make you nervous?”
“No.”
“You are lying.”
“What?!” Kate’s voice squeaked up an octave. “I’m not.”
“You are.” Yelena crossed the room in four quick strides, a frown on her face. “I can tell. I am trained in how to read body language.” Yelena perched on the edge of the bed beside Kate. “I make you nervous?”
How did Yelena manage to sound so vulnerable? She was a trained killer, for God’s sake.
“I said I wouldn’t hurt you. Although”—Yelena’s expression turned guilty as she glanced at Kate’s neck—“I know that I have.” She reached out, fingertips brushing against Kate’s skin where she could still feel the imprint of Yelena’s fingers, and Kate gasped. “It is painful?”
“No,” Kate said, her voice breathy in response to Yelena’s touch.
“And I don’t make you nervous?”
Yelena’s thumb brushed against Kate’s collarbone, and she had to swallow a whimper. “No.”
“No? Then why has your heart rate increased? And your breaths grown shallower?”
“Has anyone ever told you that’s a really annoying habit?”
“You are still avoiding the question, Kate Bishop.” Yelena’s voice was ever softer than her touch.
“Why shouldn’t I, when you already know the answer?”
“Because you keep lying.” Yelena’s hand dropped to the bed, her mouth twisting with displeasure. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“What I can do better, then. To make you more comfortable around me.”
Kate couldn’t hold back a laugh—regretting it when she saw Yelena’s face fall. She started to pull away, and Kate launched forward to stop her, grabbing her arm and nearly pitching herself into Yelena’s lap in the process.
“Don’t go,” Kate said, note of desperation in her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But I mean it—you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not your fault, it’s me.”
“You?”
“Yeah. I…” Kate sighed. There was no way around this. Not if she wanted Yelena to stick around. Although what Kate was about to say might send her running for the hills anyway. “Look, you’re really pretty, okay? And pretty women make me nervous, especially when they’re in my bed.”
“I make you nervous because you’re attracted to me?” Yelena said, an adorable frown of confusion between her eyebrows, and Kate was pretty sure this was the most humiliating conversation of her life.
Kate closed her eyes and groaned. “Yes, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Kate cracked open one eye. “Because I know you don’t feel the same, and I don’t want to make you comfortable.”
“How do you know I don’t feel the same?”
Kate opened her other eye, pretty sure she was dreaming. “Wait, what?”
Yelena shrugged. “You never asked me. You shouldn’t make assumptions, Kate Bishop.”
“R-right.” Kate took in the sight of Yelena, sleep-rumpled and soft-eyed, wearing Kate’s pajamas, and felt her heart do a somersault in her chest. “So…are you? Attracted to me?”
“Yes.”
Well, that was certainly direct.
“O-okay. Cool. That’s cool.” Kate was not cool. She was pretty sure she was three seconds away from hyperventilating.
Especially when Yelena’s gaze flitted to Kate’s lips.
“I thought of something else I would like to put on my bucket list.”
“Oh yeah?” Kate’s voice was a whisper. “What’s that?”
“I would like to kiss you.”
Christ, Kate was pretty sure Yelena was going to be the death of her.
“Sure.” Kate swallowed, wondering if she should pause to eat a breath mint, when Yelena shifted closer on the bed. Kate stopped breathing altogether when Yelena cupped her jaw, a calloused thumb sliding across Kate’s cheek as she leaned in close and brushed her lips against Kate’s.
It was achingly soft, and as far as first kisses went, Kate thought it was pretty damn perfect.
And then Yelena was sliding a hand into Kate’s hair, nails scratching at her scalp as her tongue swiped at Kate’s lips, and okay Yelena was a fantastic kisser. That probably shouldn’t be surprising—she was good at everything else—but it had Kate’s head spinning all the same.
“Okay?” Yelena said when they parted, her breath warm against Kate’s lips.
“Very okay.”
“You should get some rest now. I will go sleep on the couch.”
“Hey, wait”—Kate grabbed for Yelena when she made to move away—“don’t. Stay with me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I trust you.”
Yelena’s thumb ran across Kate’s cheek and over her lips. “You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”
Kate grinned. “No.”
“I will stay. But if I have another nightmare, I will go on the couch.”
“Okay.”
Kate crawled back beneath the covers, and Yelena slipped in beside her. “Will you…will you hold me?” Yelena said, her voice quiet in the dark.
“Of course.” Kate shifted closer, until Yelena’s back was against her front. It left Kate with a face full of blonde hair tickling her nose, but she didn’t mind. She draped an arm around Yelena’s waist and pressed a kiss to Yelena’s bare shoulder. “I’ve got you,” Kate said, meaning for more than just tonight, “you’re safe with me.”