Is it tomorrow yet?

**ROMANY**

When I wake up I'm in Alex's bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. My body is nude, I can feel the soft drag of his sheets when I try and move my legs. But there is no one around me, although when I strain my ears to listen, I hear a familiar voice issuing threats from down the hallway.

*Mickey?*

*Mickey is here.*

I try to sit up, but my body protests. For some reason it feels like I've been sleeping for days, but that can't be right, can it?

*Oh my God! What if it is right? What if I somehow missed my meetup with Santos' men?*

"Shit!" I grumble as I straighten my back against the headboard of the four poster monstrosity that is Alex's pillar of rest. My breasts spill free of the covering and I'm glad to see that I was wrong, I'm not *completely* nude after all. Some kind soul took the liberty of dressing me in fresh underwear at least.

*But why?*

*Oh yeah. Dana.*

The memory of her face as she bled out flashes before my eyes and I resist the urge to smile. *Again.*

*Who the hell am I becoming?*

chest. He shakes his head helplessly. "Doll," he whispers, stumbling to a stop in the doorway. He

also

I lean forward to rest my head on his shoulder while

as one hand strokes up

at him, I ask, "How long have I been

my lips. "A few

slow breath. *Good, not too

jaw clenches, his normally vibrant green eyes muting. "What

that for a second. Strolling through the hallway of my memories, Dana's shocked face emerges, then I work a little harder, blinking a

being alive... Damien carrying

bathing me while I cried silently and shivered in

me in

speaking in a hushed

must

Damien?" I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in worry. "He was shot! Where

okay. He's downstairs getting stitched up as we speak. Alex is being treated too." Mickey's eyes narrow, and one hand traces over my knuckles. "Why would you bruise your hands, doll? You didn't need to fight anyone." I snicker, the memory of punching Dana in the face tickling

palm in his. "Next time,

on laugh out of me, but the moment doesn't last. The sound of my

back as his gaze assesses me. "Why? Who's texting

have time

I repeat

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