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“Mm.”

My eyes narrow. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

"You’re saying a lot without saying anything.” Without meaning to, my tone takes on the hard, sarcastic quality I use with my family, and I realize with a specific tired irony that I said almost this exact thing to Lexi three days ago.

Marcus smiles. “I can see why he likes you.”

I look at Nash. His color is fully back now. His face in sleep is younger than his face awake; the controlled watchfulness gone, just the person underneath it. The one who followed an alpha’s consciousness further than was safe because he’d decided integrity mattered more than self-preservation.

The one who said I’ve thought about it every day since in a car on a mountain road like it was the simplest true thing in the world.

Stop, I tell myself.

“He’s a good man,” Marcus says finally. Not pushing. Just putting it on the table. “One of the best I’ve known. And I don’t say that because he signs my checks.”

I snort at that.

He glances at me. “He doesn’t compromise on what matters.”

“I know,” I say. And I do. That’s the problem. That’s been the problem since the first night.

“Then you know he’s not going to stop,” Marcus says. Simply. Without apology. “Whatever this is, he’s decided. He’s not built for halfway.”

I look down at my hands. “Neither am I.”

Which is why I swore to never begin in the first place. But the truth is, we began two years ago at that party.

“No,” Marcus agrees. “I didn’t think you were.”

We sit with that for a moment.

Then Nash makes a sound, and we both look at him.

His eyes flutter open. Find the ceiling. Do a quick, efficient sweep of the room.

He lands on Marcus first, and his neutral expression turns into a scowl. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Marcus asks.

“Whatever you’re about to say.”

Marcus grins. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You have that look in your eye.”

“This is just how my eye looks.”

Nash grunts, and then his gaze lands on me. Something in his expression shifts. Not surprise, just taking in the fact that I’m here beside his bed, which tells him something he’s too perceptive not to read correctly.

He doesn’t say anything about it.

“What’s your assessment, doc?” he asks Marcus.

“You’re fine,” Marcus says, standing and pulling out his phone, which has just dinged again. "Embarrassingly so, given the dramatics.”

“Is that Lovaro?” Nash asks, nodding at the phone.