January

When Anne awoke in the spare room the next morning, she was shocked to find it was already gone nine; parties always tired her out, especially now she was a little older, but from the silence of the house, she guessed neither Phil nor Lola were awake yet either.

She rose and dressed quickly, grabbing the spare clothes from the wardrobe she had packed into her case when Phil had invited her to stay – staying over meant she wouldn't have to worry about trying to get home after midnight, and he'd told her there were no other guests staying so she could have the spare room as opposed to the sofa. Once dressed, she proceeded to go wake Lola for her breakfast. Anne knew that her granddaughter would probably still be asleep if she had stayed up half the night, desperate to reach midnight, but was also aware that if she slept all day, then she wouldn't be tired in the evening.

Wandering across the hall, she tapped lightly on Lola's bedroom door, surprised when it pushed open from her slight touch; it had definitely been closed when she had checked on her the previous night. From her spot in the doorway, it was quite obvious Lola was not in her room, her stripy duvet cover pulled back to reveal an empty bed. She frowned, wondering where she was, before remembering that Phil had said once that Lola stayed in his room if she ever had nightmares or couldn't sleep – and based on the amount of fireworks that had been going off last night, it was more than likely she had headed in there.

Knocking on her son's door quietly, Anne waited for any kind of response to let her know he was awake, but when she got no answer, and could hear nothing but silence across the house, she opened it a fraction, peering inside.

There she did indeed find her granddaughter; Lola was sound asleep snuggled under the navy blue covers. What Anne hadn't expected to see however, was that she was curled up in between both Phil and Melinda, who, by all appearances, looked to have fallen asleep in their party clothes. They lay on either side of the bed, on top of the duvet, hands linked together across Lola.

All three were still asleep, and Anne couldn't help notice that they looked like a little family.

She smiled, closing the door behind her again quietly, and headed downstairs to make the biggest New Year breakfast she could manage.

Phil awoke when he heard the sound of his bedroom door closing. He'd been dozing on and off for a while anyway, but hearing the door made him peel his eyes open properly. He found, however, nobody there, but the echo of footsteps heading down the stairs told him it had probably been his mother who had come in.

He rolled over carefully, and smiled.

Lola was asleep next to him, curled up under the duvet with her head sharing his pillow. From the way she was stirring gradually, he could tell she would be awake soon.

On the other side of her was Melinda, who, to his surprise, was watching him with sleepy eyes. She must have awoken with the sound of the door too. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

"Hey" Phil said softly, careful not to disturb his daughter.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?"

"Mmhmm."

It wasn't exactly the morning after he had expected when he'd asked her to stay the previous evening. Although, considering how much alcohol they had both consumed, maybe that wasn't a bad thing. He wanted them to do this right, and drunken sex wasn't really what he had in mind for their first time together.

Everything had gone wrong from the moment she'd agreed to stay; he'd picked her up, telling her to wrap her legs around him and hold on, and carried her up the stairs – although that was a lot harder than the movies made it look, especially after several beers.

When he finally entered his room (they may have gotten distracted along the way), Phil sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling her down with him, and resuming their activities from before. He'd spent almost ten minutes sucking bruises into her neck, and she'd punched him playfully, telling him she'd have to hide them for a week if he kept going. That only encouraged him further, and he bit down harder, making her moan softly into his ear.

The slight whimpering sound that came from Lola's room however stopped him in his tracks, and he closed his eyes, resting their foreheads together as he waited to see if Lola was awake.

A few moments later, and his thoughts were confirmed, as a small voice in the next room called out for him.

"Go to her" Melinda murmured, caressing his cheek and sliding off his lap. "She needs you."

"I'm so sorry," he replied, placing a kiss on her forehead before standing up and heading for the door.

"Don't be, Phil."

"I'll be back." He glanced back to her, before walking out, and entered Lola's room to find her sat up with a distraught look on her face, her bottom lip trembling. She'd already turned her bedside lamp on, so Phil knew she must have been scared – she always slept in the dark.

"What's the matter princess?"

"I had a nightmare" she whispered, a single tear falling down her cheek.

"Oh honey, you're okay," Phil replied, sitting down next to her and pulling her into a hug. "You're okay."

He rocked her quietly for a while, seeing if she would fall back to sleep on her own. After about ten minutes, Melinda came to the door, and leant against the wooden frame. He apologised to her with his eyes and she smiled, shaking her head slightly and dismissing it as unimportant.

Lola shifted in his arms and peered up at him. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Phil looked to Melinda helplessly, conveying in silence his apologies for their interrupted night. But Melinda just nodded with a small smile. "Of course you can."

Lola looked over to see her. "Are you sleeping over?"

"Yes she is" Phil answered, standing up and picking Lola up from the bed. "So you'll have to share with both of us."

She nodded sleepily against his chest, and together the three of them headed back next door.

"You found a room" Lola muttered sleepily, once Phil had tucked her under the covers in between both himself and Melinda. Melinda chuckled slightly.

"Yeah kid, I found a room."

Lola rolled over and opened her eyes, looking at Phil sleepily and stretching her little limbs across the bed.

"Morning princess."

"Daddyyyy," she replied, sitting up and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," she turned to face Melinda, and frowned. "You hurt yourself."

Melinda sat up, and looked at her confused. "I've hurt myself?"

"Your neck" she replied, pointing at the skin above her shoulder blades. Melinda quickly realised what it must be.

"Aha, yeah, it's okay don't worry," she rambled, brushing her hair over her shoulder to cover the marks. Glancing at Phil, she could see him looking very pleased with his handiwork, and vowed to make him pay for that later.

"Are you staying for breakfast?" Lola continued.

Melinda laughed, stretching out. "If that's okay with you?"

Lola thought about it, before nodding, clambering off the bed. "Is Grandma here?"

"Yeah" Phil replied, smiling at his daughter. "She's downstairs… you want to go see her?"

Lola grinned and skipped across the room, her bare feet bouncing across the pale carpet, and headed off onto the landing, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door was closed, Melinda turned to Phil. "Are they bad?" she asked, pointing back at her neck with slight concern.

She grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked him with it when he smirked in response.

"Can I borrow a jumper or something?" she asked, climbing off the bed and looking at her reflection in the mirror with a frown. "Just so I don't have to have breakfast in this." She indicated at her top, and Phil realised how uncomfortable she must have been sleeping in it, especially given the zip up the back.

"Yeah of course." He headed over to his chest of drawers, mentally reprimanding himself for not offering her something else to wear last night, and rummaged through, before pulling out a large grey sweater with the Captain America shield on it. "This okay?"

"Yeah, thanks captain" she replied, smirking as she took it from him, before turning away to face the window. "Could you unzip me?"

Her voice had lowered slightly, and Phil swallowed before reaching out to pull the silver zip down, moving it from her neck all the way to her lower back. As the sides of her top peeled open however, he noticed something that he hadn't realised would be there.

"You have a tattoo?" he exclaimed, as she paused in the removal of her shirt.

"Yeah," she gave him a wry smile over her shoulder. "I got it a few years ago."

"Can I – ?"

She nodded, watching as he slowly reached out, tracing gently the marks on her skin, feeling her shiver slightly under his touch. There were three Chinese symbols trailing vertically from her neck downwards, and despite how he'd never really found tattoos an attractive trait, the small inkings along the top of her spine were actually pretty tasteful.

"What do they mean?"

"Strength, courage, and hope."

He didn't need to ask why she'd had them done.

"You sound shocked."

Phil shrugged. "Only a little, you didn't really strike me as the tattoo type."

She exhaled a shaky laugh, before pulling off her shirt fully, dropping it to the floor, and grabbing his jumper from the bed, tugging it on properly and turning back to him.

"What?" he asked, confused by the way she'd laughed.

"Let's just say if you thought that was a shock, you might be in for a big surprise soon."

With that she smirked, before walking past him, brushing his arm as she went, and headed out of the door.

It was all Phil could do to watch her leave, wondering what on earth she had meant by that.

They arrived in the kitchen to find Anne pottering around preparing a large pot of coffee, jugs of sugar and milk already sat on the table waiting for them. The room smelled heavenly, and Phil grinned when he saw his mother had not only made a stack of pancakes – Lola's favourite – but had also prepared toast, lathered in raspberry jam and fresh butter. His cupboards would definitely need restocking. He squeezed Melinda's hand in support as they entered the room, and he gestured to her to take a seat opposite Lola.

"Why are you wearing Daddy's jumper?" Lola asked, pausing her crayon on the page, and watching Melinda carefully.

"Because it's cold," she answered simply, sitting down and pouring a glass of orange juice for herself, replacing the jug to the middle of the table after she did so. Apparently her answer was acceptable, because Lola returned to her work almost immediately.

"What're you drawing?"

"This is a dragon" she replied, pointing at the purple shape on her page. "But he's a New Year dragon, so he breathes fireworks." She then indicated to where she had already glued a load of glitter, and Melinda smiled – the kid was creative, that was for sure.

"He's awesome," Melinda said enthusiastically. "Does he have friends? Like, a Christmas dragon who breathes snow? Or an autumn dragon who breathes crunchy leaves?"

The look of excitement on Lola's face at the new possibilities made Phil smile from across the room; his two girls bonding was all he needed.

It was almost with reluctance that he turned back to where his mother was working.

"What's all this?" Phil asked, coming up behind his mother with a mock frown.

"Phillip, it is New Years' Day" she smiled. "And after last night, I'd thought we could all do with good food." She crossed the room and grabbed a bowl of sliced strawberries she'd prepared already. "Some more than others" she added quietly, and Phil could have sworn she glanced from himself to Melinda as she spoke.

He pretended not to have heard her. That conversation was not happening.

Instead, he carried the plate of pancakes over to the table, ruffling Lola's hair as he passed, and took the seat next to Melinda.

"Daddddd," Lola complained with a frown, reaching up to flatten her hair back to how it was. He grinned at her.

"It looks better messy."

She pouted as Melinda laughed, and Anne took the final seat next to her granddaughter, taking away her crayons and paper – receiving a frown as she did so – and encouraging everybody to help themselves to the food before it went cold.

Phil poured coffee for himself and his mother, and refilled Lola's orange when she ran out. He made Melinda tea – despite her protests she was happy with orange – and gave her an "I told you so" look as she drank it with a smile. She rolled her eyes at him when he sat back down, and Anne watched them both surreptitiously over her breakfast.

"These are amazing, Anne" Melinda said, reaching out and adding a third pancake to her plate.

"Daddy makes nice pancakes too" Lola chipped in, drinking from her cup and defending her dad's cooking skills with a frown.

Anna laughed. "Yes he does munchkin, but who do you think taught him?"

"It's true," Phil said, nodding at his mother through a mouthful of pancake, "You're the best cook ever."

"Oh I know," she smiled. "Melinda honey, would you like another cup of tea?"

"Lola Jayne Coulson you come back here right now!"

Phil shook the snow from his ear, and rapidly looked around for his daughter. She was in the park somewhere, but as soon as her snowball found its target she had scarpered, squealing and giggling as she made her escape. She and Steve were playing against Phil and Maria, and the former two had been losing dramatically until her well-aimed shot smacked Phil across the head; he'd actually been pretty impressed with the power behind her throw, but the moment he felt the cold dripping down his neck his mood turned to revenge.

Phil followed the trail of tiny footprints around the back of a snow-covered rose bush, and found her squatting amongst the leaves, doing her very best impression of a hermit. She jumped when he appeared behind her, and made to run away again, but Phil grabbed her under the arms and carried her back into the field they had been in, promising suffering of the icy cold kind as she kicked her legs around in a desperate attempt to escape her fate.

Steve was stood waiting for them with a sorry expression on his face, and he had a very determined Maria by his side, watching her niece arrive with a smirk.

"Oh you're in for it now kid," she grinned, balling up a snowball of her own and tossing it from palm to palm.

Phil was watching Maria carefully. He knew she wouldn't actually throw a snowball at his daughter from point-blank range, but he also knew she had a sadistic side that would take great pleasure in tormenting her for a little bit longer.

"I've got a better idea" she called, taking a step closer and winking at Phil as she moved. "How about, we bury her alive in the snow?"

"Noooo!" Lola shrieked, making the extra effort and wriggling out of Phil's grip, dropping to the floor, her starry wellingtons making a soft crunching sound as they hit the snow below.

Steve laughed at her escape, giving her a double thumbs-up from behind Maria's back. "Run Lola! Run for your life!"

Maria threw her snowball at him instead.

Phil didn't want to go back to work the next day – he'd loved having the last few weeks off with Lola – but as of tomorrow, he was back to school, so to speak, and she would be back at her playgroup. He was going to make the most of their time off together.

The New Year always brought out a deluge of people with resolutions to lose weight. January was usually seen as the busiest month at Providence Fitness Centre, both in terms of new memberships being taken out, and how many people attended the gym in general. When Melinda arrived at work on January 5th, having had what she would honesty describe as one of the best Christmas periods of her life, the first thing she did was log onto the system and check her class schedule for the following weeks. She was almost shocked at how many people had signed up for each of her classes; she taught a mixture of different sessions per day – tai-chi, self-defence, and kickboxing – and almost every single one of them was full.

It was going to be a hard month.

The problem with New Year memberships, Melinda thought, as she signed back off and headed across the centre to her studio, was that a large proportion of the people taking them out, would probably have left again in a couple of months' time anyway. It was a whim, an impulsive decision to get fit, a resolution that for most people, would not be kept. And whilst she appreciated that they were taking the time to come to the centre in the first place, it would always annoy her a little bit that many members just stopped turning up once spring arrived, as though they no longer cared for the skills she had spent time and energy teaching them.

Or maybe that was the post-holiday blues talking. After all, it was her job, and she did choose to do it.

Sure enough, when people began arriving for her first kick-boxing session of the day – and there were a lot of people, almost thirty-five in the one room – and she ticked them off her list one by one as she went around to ensure all were booked in, it became obvious that many were greatly underestimating just how hard she would work them. One even commented that they were looking forward to meeting people and having a bit of a laugh with it.

That was not exactly how she ran her classes.

"Okay, welcome to the session," she announced, once she had finished her register and returned to the front of the room. "From what I've gathered, for the majority of you, this is your first class, so we're just going to start with the basics today. If anybody afterwards decides they would like to attend a more vigorous session, I run an advanced one on Wednesday evenings, but I wouldn't recommend that until you're more experienced."

People were now looking at her with a slight trace of apprehension. That was good. She liked that.

"Let's begin. We're going to start off with just a basic warm-up."

She spent the next ten minutes gradually building the class up from walking on the spot, to light jogging, before getting them to begin shifting balance from foot to foot, and introducing the basic kick-boxing punches in varying sequences of difficulty.

Jab, jab, right-hand cross, jab, jab, uppercut, jab, jab, uppercut, jab, jab, right-hand cross…

An hour later, and fifty percent of the class looked like they wanted to die, whilst the other fifty percent were grinning exhaustedly. Most of the latter half would be back; she knew that much after a few years of the same routine. The first half? Not so likely.

One person had almost passed out. Melinda had spent ten minutes sitting with them whilst the on-site first aid attendee arrived just in case, asking multiple questions about their health and their usual routine, and ensuring they drank plenty of fluids. When they revealed they hadn't eaten anything before the session, it was all she could do to not roll her eyes, and tell them it was their own fault.

January classes – not exactly Melinda's favourite time.

Natasha flew back from Russia the next day, but due to her dance schedule, was set to fly out for a month-long tour around Europe the following Friday. So it was decided, as she hadn't seen the girls very much over the Christmas period, and they had not seen her, that on Thursday, they would all go out for cocktails somewhere. Even Bobbi was free, which was a miracle in itself, but having worked both Christmas and New Year, she was taking a well-earned week's break.

Melinda had agreed to go with them, under the agreement that this time, Maria didn't get so intoxicated she couldn't walk, and that they could be back home before 3am, especially as the two of them had work the next day.

Unlikely on both counts, but at least she tried to be responsible.

Maria only knew both Natasha and Bobbi through Melinda, but they all got along perfectly well. They'd met for the first time the previous year, on a valentines night in; they had all been single at the time, except Maria, but as Steve was away on business that weekend – which annoyed Maria no end – she tagged along with them, and the four had spent the night in Bobbi's kitchen baking anti-valentines cupcakes, decorated with broken hearts made of pink sugar paste, and drinking tequila straight from the bottle. From then on, the friendship had been cemented for life.

Maria and Natasha both had the same sense of humour, and wound their friends and each other up constantly, with jibes and sarcasm and innuendos. Bobbi and Melinda felt like they refereed every social occasion: stopping the others from killing each other, and making sure everyone got home okay.

It worked for them all. And in honesty, it was great.

The bar they chose was different to their usual places, but it was new, and Bobbi had wanted to try it out. The whole place felt fancy, with tall glass tables dotted around the room that customers stood around, each with a candle in the centre, and hundreds of purple fairy-lights casting a glow across the whole room. There was a dance-floor downstairs which was fully equipped with a resident DJ and strobe lighting, and Melinda had a strong feeling they'd be in there within the next few hours.

They ordered a large jug of Woo Woo cocktail, and stood around their table sharing the red liquid out between their glasses.

"When are you back on shift Bobbi?" Melinda asked, sipping the sweet liquid. She'd never tried this one before – it had been Maria's choice – but it was actually very nice, although she could definitely taste the vodka through the cranberry juice. She took another sip just because.

"Sunday," Bobbi replied. "So at least I've got a few more days off."

"Do you not find it really strange working holidays?" Maria asked, frowning slightly as she did so. She'd never had a job where she had to work nights, so it was a foreign concept to her that as some people spent celebratory occasions partying, others were on shift.

"A bit." She took a sip of her drink as she thought about it. "But I mean, I'm kind of used to it, I've worked the last three New Year's, and I've done about four Christmases too."

"I guess it's crazy busy too?"

"Oh yeah," Bobbi nodded, rolling her eyes as she spoke. "We get twice as many calls, especially on New Year's Eve."

"Does Lance not mind you working them?" Natasha asked, removing her leather jacket and placing it on the hook under the table.

"He's okay with it."

"Really?"

"Well," Bobbi sighed slightly. "It took him a while to come around to the idea when we first got together, but he's okay nowadays. It means he can spend the time with his family."

Lance was English, and he used to split his time half in England and half in America; luckily, his job afforded him the option of working from home often, so he could still get paid whilst he was visiting Bobbi. But over the past year or so, as he and Bobbi had been getting along so much better, he'd been spending longer and longer periods in the US with her, to the extent he had debated asking his boss if there was a possibility for a transfer to the sister company in the states.

"What about you Nat?" Bobbi asked, steering the focus away from herself. "What was Christmas in Russia like?"

"Possibly the coldest I have ever been," she replied, shivering as though she were still there. "It was way below freezing permanently."

"You like the cold though?" Melinda reminded her, knowing all too well how rare it was she would be allowed to turn the heating on in their flat. "And you grew up there; have the winters here made you forget what real cold is?" she teased.

"Yeah, but Mel," she grinned, shaking her head slightly. "There is cold, and then there is so cold you physically cannot feel your limbs. We went skating on this frozen lake near her flat for a few hours, and I swear it felt like I'd been buried in the ice for seventy years."

"I couldn't do it," Maria chipped in; the idea of being that cold went completely against all her beliefs. "Give me the sun and a gorgeous beach any day."

"Speaking of sun," Natasha asked, swirling the contents of her glass around with a sparkly plastic stirrer. "Have you booked a honeymoon yet?"

"Yes," Maria replied excitedly, her eyes lighting up as she spoke. "Booked it a few weeks back… we're going to the Bahamas for ten days."

"Oh wow!" Bobbi exclaimed. "It's meant to be so beautiful there – clear seas, white sand…"

"Exactly," Maria grinned. "The pictures looked amazing too, and there was a special offer online, so we just booked it there and then."

"When do you leave?" Melinda asked, finishing the last of her drink and placing the glass back onto the table in front of her.

"Five days after the wedding, means we don't have to rush around the next day."

"So… the end of May?" Bobbi clarified, mentally working out the dates from the wedding to the honeymoon.

Maria nodded. "It won't be quite as hot as in the middle of summer, but that's probably a good thing really."

"Yeah, means you won't cook when you're sunbathing… nothing worse than sunburn, especially on your honeymoon photos!"

"Truth" Natasha preached. "Anybody want another jug of this stuff? I'm buying…"

Three hours later and they were still at the same table, and had gone through another two batches of cocktails. At some point in the evening, Bobbi had found a couple of tall chairs, so at least they could sit down and not destroy their feet standing in heels all night.

They'd moved through the conversation topics of work, home, friends, and eventually had ended up debating who had the worst past in terms of relationships – Bobbi, Melinda, or Natasha. Maria had managed to exempt herself from the running, seeing as she'd been with Steve since she was 24, whilst the other three had definitely had their fair share of what some might call disasters.

"Nat, who was that guy you met on one of your dance tours?" Maria asked. "The singer?"

"The one who serenaded me in public?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah, he went after that."

"And Mel," Bobbi turned to her. "What happened to that guy you were seeing last year? Grant something, wasn't it?"

Melinda prickled slightly at the mention of his name. "Yeah…" she dropped her gaze to the drink in her hand. "Son of a bitch" she mumbled.

Natasha snorted as Bobbi looked at her curiously. "Oh god, what did he do?"

"He was using me to get back at somebody else" she replied simply, putting her glass back down on the table harder than she'd originally intended. "So I… got rid of him."

Her eyes flashed at the latter part of her statement, and Bobbi raised her eyebrows, wondering what the hell she had done when she'd found out.

"It was only sex though, right?" Natasha asked with a smirk, knowing exactly what had happened when Melinda had discovered the truth.

"Yeah."

But it still hurt.

"Never mind," Natasha said happily, looking over at Maria. "She's banging your brother now!"

Melinda choked, and Maria spluttered over her drink, putting her glass down with closed eyes. "Oh my god Nat, I did not want that image in my head."

"I mean, I'm assuming she is…" Natasha continued, oblivious to Maria's distaste for the turn in conversation, and turned to Melinda, raising her eyebrows. "Have you guys…?"

Melinda glanced up at Natasha, then to Bobbi, to Maria – who was watching her through her fingers – and then back to Natasha; there was no way to escape the three pairs of eyes waiting for her response.

She shook her head slightly. "No, we haven't."

"Why not?" Natasha asked, outraged. "You stayed at his on New Year's didn't you? –"

Melinda saw Maria straighten up out of the corner of her eye… apparently she hadn't known that.

"– Are you telling me nothing happened between you both?"

"Well…"

"I'm going to the bar so I don't have to listen to this" Maria announced suddenly, rising from her seat and walking away. Natasha smirked at her retreating form.

"God I love annoying her."

"I know," Melinda replied, smiling weakly, knowing full well this conversation was not over yet. "And you do it so well."

Melinda moved around the flat with a bundle of nerves in her stomach. Natasha had left for Europe earlier that afternoon, and ever since the moment she had returned from work, Melinda had been tidying and sorting and making sure the place looked acceptable – Nat didn't half leave things in a mess sometimes.

Once she decided it could look no tidier, she had spent ages stood in front of her wardrobe debating what to wear. It was ridiculous really. Phil was coming round at half seven, and Melinda was preparing dinner for them both. His mother had decided to take it upon herself to make sure the two of them could spend time together alone, and so Lola was staying over at her house for the night.

Phil arrived bearing a bottle of wine and a smile, brushing his spare hand through his hair nervously as he stepped into her world for the first time, and Melinda felt the butterflies begin their rhythmic dance within her chest.

They both knew what this night meant.

She prepared risotto, with cream, mushrooms, and chicken, and they shared the meal over the wine he brought with him, with mismatched plates and glasses; Melinda apologised they were all different, telling him how everything in the flat was thrown together from various places all over the world, and he laughed, taking hold of her hand across the table. Despite the quality of the food she'd made – she was thankful in that moment her mother had taught her the basics about cooking when she was growing up – neither was able to finish their portion. She had also made cheesecake for dessert, but they both knew it wasn't going to be eaten.

Phil offered to clear the dishes, but she insisted she would do them in the morning, rising from her chair and piling them onto the worktop beside the sink. When she turned around, Phil was watching her with a smile, not unlike the one she remembered from New Years'. He took a step towards her, and another, and then they were there, in front of one another, and she suddenly felt the familiar level of anxiety she had on their first date. Swallowing, she reached out, taking his hand, and led him to the living room area.

Half an hour later and they found themselves lying entangled on the sofa, cheeks flushed rose pink, lips swollen, and the desire that had been building for months finally coming to a head.

He reached down and trailed his fingertips under her vest – the lace shirt that she had worn over the top already having been disposed of – and stroked gently up her waist, revelling in the tiny shiver she gave as his fingers brushed just beneath her ribs.

But as Phil hovered above her, he watched something in her eyes flicker, and he paused, frowning slightly as she looked up at him with a tiny trace of hesitation.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, sitting back up, his knees sinking into the plush fabric of the sofa on either side of her thighs.

Melinda watched him with a combination of apprehension and disappointment, and she gradually sat herself up so they were facing each other once more.

"Do you remember when I said I was attacked" she said quietly, as her words led Phil to absently reach out, tracing the light scar on her chest.

"Yes."

"Well…" she paused, biting her lip as she fought to say what it was she needed to. "This scar," she said, moving her fingers up to join his, "It isn't the only one."

Phil looked at her in question, before realising what she meant.

"He… more than once?"

She nodded slowly, and Phil swallowed.

"How many times?"

"Three. I've got one under my ribs and another on my stomach… but they're worse than this one."

Her words broke slightly on the latter half of her statement, and Phil realised all at once that she was self-conscious about her scars. It hadn't been something he'd actually considered – Melinda always came across as quiet but confident – yet as soon as the thought entered his head he knew it was correct.

"Hey," he said, moving his free hand to tilt her jaw slightly so she looked at him. "It's okay. I don't care if you have a hundred scars, you're beautiful."

"Phil…"

"I'm serious. But… if you want to keep them covered, you can, it's your choice, no pressure."

Melinda looked at him, boring her brown eyes into the depths of his blue, before seemingly coming to an internal decision. The next thing he knew and she was reaching her hands down and grabbing the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one fluid motion.

"I trust you" she said simply, as he watched her in a moment of mixed shock and awe.

He stroked the angry red marks that littered her lower body, biting back the growl he wanted to release as he saw just how deep one of them must have gone. Clearly his expression gave away his emotions, because she shook her head, pulling him closer.

"Don't" she murmured. "It's over, it's done."

"I know."

She leaned forwards, grazing her lips against his once more, and the hammering in their chests became one.

She was glad they had waited. They both were.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured softly, tracing circles into her right hip as they lay facing each other, the dim lights of the city drifting through the gap of her curtains. At some point, they had risen from the sofa and ended up in her bedroom, and Phil was thankful for the move solely due to how comfortable her bed was. He didn't want to leave, and he especially had no desire to remove himself from the warmth of Melinda lying next to him.

He'd missed this. It had been too long since he had shared something like this with anybody. And he was glad it was with her.

He slowly moved the silken sheet down her body, revealing the silver ring she had pierced through her right nipple. Phil had to admit, he had been pretty surprised when she'd removed the black lace of her bra, and he'd found a small flash of silver glinting in the light. All at once he'd remembered their earlier conversation regarding tattoos and surprises.

"You like that, don't you?" she smirked, his fascination for it a completely different reaction to the one she had expected him to give.

"Yeah, it's… sexy" he admitted, reaching out a finger and gently flicking the silver ring, the cool steel a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Not now," she shrugged as much as she could from her horizontal position. "But it stung like a bitch when I got it done."

"Why'd you do it?"

"I was a slightly rebellious teenager… "

He could see her smirking in the dim light of the bedroom.

"My mother said no piercings or tattoos… so yeah."

"Naturally you did both."

"Naturally."

She watched him for a while, as he glanced around, taking in miniscule details about her life; from the silk of her violet bedding, to the cushions they'd thrown to the floor in their haste, right down to the perfectly crafted glass snow-globe on her bedside table – his gift to her for Christmas. The scene inside had reminded him of their first few meetings: a park, with a bench and a lake, only it now was covered in a layer of snow.

When he met her eyes once more, and found her gazing softly back at him, he smiled, and Melinda reached out, tugging him closer as they lost a few more hours.

It was the other side of midnight when they finally fell asleep.

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