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“I know.”

Jesse swallowed. “I’m trying.”

Bass leaned closer. “I can see that.”

Jesse couldn’t hold his gaze. His eye burned, and he concentrated on the seam of his brother’s coat until it passed.

Bass kept hold of his hand.

After a while, Nate came to the door. “Your five minutes are up.”

Bass gave Jesse’s fingers one final squeeze and stepped back. “Emily wants to come tomorrow.”

“Tell her to bring pickles.”

Bass gave him a puzzled look. “For you?”

“For herself. Keeps her from crying.”

“Hasn’t worked so far.”

“Try more pickles.”

Bass shook his head, but his mouth curved. At the door, he paused beside Eden.

“Miss Whitcomb. Thank you for sitting with him.”

“He’s been good company,” she said.

Jesse couldn’t keep from looking at her. Good company? After all the trouble he’d given her?

Bass raised an eyebrow. “Then he must be worse when I’m around.”

“You bring out his finest qualities,” she replied.

His brother laughed and left.

Jesse lay back, worn out by the visit. He shut his eye while Nate checked on him, then listened to the door close once more.

The book’s pages rustled from the chair by the window.

“Still here?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Read me another chapter tomorrow?”

“If you want.”

“I do.”

Eden didn’t answer at once. He opened his eye and found her smiling at the page.

“Then I’ll be back,” she said.

Jesse closed his eye again. He’d managed to feel his foot, kept his brother from riding after the men who beat him, and heard the first chapter of a book he wouldn’t admit he enjoyed.

Tomorrow, he meant to hear the next one.