Assessment.
But it’s something else too.
Something I don’t have a name for yet.
“You’re staring.”
Her voice is quiet, eyes still closed.
I don’t look away.
“I’m making sure you’re still here.”
That earns me a slight shift—her lashes lift, green eyes finding mine.
“I told you I was,” she says.
“I know.”
A beat.
“But I’m verifying.”
Her mouth curves just slightly.
“Of course you are.”
She pushes herself up slowly, wincing just enough that most people wouldn’t notice.
I do.
I’m already moving before she finishes the motion.
“Easy,” I say.
“I am being easy,” she replies, breath steadying.
“You’re pushing.”
“I’m sitting up.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Her eyes flick up to mine—sharp, assessing.
There it is.
That spark.
“You always argue like this?” she asks.
“Only when I’m right.”
That almost gets a smile.
Almost.
“I’m not fragile, Logan.”
