The longer we stared at each other, the more composure she regained until she started seeming almost like herself again—the hard coldness settling back into her eyes.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Where do you think you were going?”
She lifted her chin, the cool defiance returning in full force. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I’d just…slip out.”
I took another sip of coffee, hiding my smile. I licked my lips as I lowered the mug.
“And what vehicle were you planning on ‘slipping out’ in?”
She blinked, and I watched as she fought the look of embarrassment. It seemed she’d completely forgotten that her car was still parked back at the library. She recovered quickly, though, and shrugged.
“It’s not far. I was going to walk back to my car.”
I narrowed my eyes. She damn well shouldn’t joke about that.
“You’re still recovering,” I said sharply.
“I’m fine.” She looked away. “Like you said, I’m feeling much better this morning.”
My jaw ticced. She was definitely back to her usual self.
I tried not to shift on my feet as I looked her over again. Though her head was held high, there was a slight hunch in her shoulders. When she’d been walking, her arm had been wrapped protectively around her ribs. She had to be in pain.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not hurting,” I said softly.
She grimaced, shooting me a glare. But she didn’t argue.
I gave her a small, sad smile. “How about you stay a little longer?”
Her nose wrinkled like the thought was repulsive.
“Why?”
I lifted my mug. “Have some coffee with me. And some breakfast. Then I promise, I’ll bring you back to your car.”
She stared at the mug in longing. I let the silence stretch while she decided what she wanted to do. If I spoke, it might annoy her enough to refuse me.
Finally, her shoulders dropped. “I guess I could have some coffee.”
I stifled a grin. “Come on.”
I led her toward the dining area. A carafe of coffee sat on top of the little round table, accompanied by a pitcher of ice-cold water. I’d set out a bowl of fresh fruit and some bagels with different spreads, sliced avocado, and bacon on the side.
Quinn took in the food, then raised her brows at me. It was obvious I’d been expecting her to eat with me. I shrugged and sat down at one of the two plates I’d set out.
“I wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of if you were hungry,” I said nonchalantly, noticing the way her expression hardened as she eased onto the chair across from me.
She grabbed the coffee, poured some into the mug, and wrapped both hands around the ceramic, inhaling the steam that billowed from the top.
I took a bite of my half-eaten bagel with plain cream cheese and pretended to keep reading my book. I tried to ignore her as much as possible, hoping that if I didn’t look directly at her, I wouldn’t scare her off. She was quiet as I kept an eye on her in my periphery.
She drank her coffee slowly, savoring every drop. She stared blankly down into the mug between sips, her blinks slow and heavy, like she was about to fall asleep.
I could relate.
I wasn’t sure I’d gotten any real sleep last night. I’d been too worried about her. Even when I tried to rest between the times she needed to take her medicine, I never quite got there. As soon as the sun rose, I got out of bed and cleaned. Then Mom stopped by to drop off the fresh clothes she’d gathered for Quinn.
Something else had changed last night, too. I’d been trying to ignore it, but as I watched Quinn, it was clear that I had taken on the role of looking out for her in a more involved way than I’d ever anticipated. My indifference toward her was gone.
