Chapter 6I sleep for at least two hours, and Jona’s already awake when I wake up.
“It’s worse again,” he says, nodding in the direction of the window, and the tree branch decides to thump-thump-thump against the glass as though to confirm Jona’s words.
I shiver at the thought of going outside again. “Can we stay in bed where it’s warm until the blizzard decides to move on, and the roads are clear and drivable?”
“Tempting, but you heard your grandmother. We’re expected for Donald Duck tomorrow.”
Sometime during our nap, we’ve drifted apart, and he’s too far away from me for my taste, but he’s at ease and laid-back, his limbs loose and careless, his hair a crow’s nest, his face relaxed and serene. He looks as though he’s perfectly contented here in my bed, as though he belongs here with
