Cassidy’s earliest memory was of being in bed with his brother, when he was just a wee scrap of a child. It can’t have been late at night, because Ma and Da hadn’t come to bed yet. It was warm enough underneath the quilt, but the air in the room was chilly.
“My nose is cold”, he grumbled.
“Hush,” said Billy, and wrapped an arm around his younger brother, covering his nose with a small, warm hand.
As an adult, Cassidy wondered if his aversion to sleeping alone came from having done so little of it during his formative years.