“I didn’t think you were.”
She glanced up at me, searching for offense. She didn’t find any because I wasn’t offended.
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated,” she said. The edge was still there, but it had softened. “You aren’t a subscription service.”
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it. “Noted.”
She huffed, and I could tell she was irritated at herself now. “That sounded rude, too.”
“It didn’t.”
“It did.”
I stepped a little closer, so she had to look at me instead of away. “Zoey, you don’t need to manage your tone with me.”
She stilled.
“That’s just you,” I added. “You say the sharp thing first. Then you decide if it needs sanding.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m not trying to push you out. I just… don’t know what the rules are.”
There it was.That’s what has been worrying her so much.
I held her gaze. “There aren’t any. There don’t have to be. Not unless you want them.”
She exhaled slowly. “Okay.”
“I’ll head home now,” I repeated, “and I’ll come back in the morning.”
She crossed her arms, chin lifted defiantly.
I didn’t move closer, but I didn’t look away either.
The silence stretched, and in it, something changed between us.
She sighed. “Don’t come before eight.”
I nodded. “I’ll bring something to make for breakfast. Something hearty. Your body is healing.”
The look she gave me could have set the house on fire.
I adjusted. “Fine. I’ll bring breakfast somebody else already made.”
“That’s still unnecessary.”
She said it with that careful irritation she used when she was trying to regain control of a conversation. I knew the pattern by now. Gratitude made her uncomfortable. Being cared for made her defensive. The closer something got to meaning something, the sharper she became.
I stepped closer, and Zoey went quiet.
The room felt smaller suddenly. The lamp beside her bed threw a warm pool of light over her shoulders and caught in the loose strands of her hair. The blue looked darker in the lamplight, almost midnight instead of electric. She looked tired, softer around the edges than she usually let herself be, but her chin stayed lifted anyway. Stubborn even when she was exhausted—especially then.
Her mouth parted slightly.
I lifted my hand toward her shoulder and stopped just short of touching her, giving her room to refuse. I felt the pull of her before I felt my own restraint. I could still feel her against me, still feel the way she had leaned into my hands once without thinking.
She didn’t move away.
She watched me, wary and curious at the same time, and something deep in my chest tightened.
