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She raised her eyes. “You sound like someone who takes his own advice.”

“Never claimed to.”

That earned a smile.

He glanced at the paper. “You scared?”

“Yes.”

“Of what he’ll say?”

“Of what he’ll remember.”

Jesse shifted closer to her side of the bed. It took effort; she could see it in the set of his mouth. She wanted to help him, but he was nearly there before she moved.

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” he said.

Eden folded the paper along its crease. “Neither do you.”

He gave a short laugh. “Been telling me that since you got here.”

“Someone ought to.”

The fingers of his left hand reached the chair arm. His knuckles brushed hers.

Neither of them moved.

It would have been simple to take his hand. He’d spent days allowing people to touch him because he could not manage without them. Eden would not mistake that necessity for an invitation.

His hand stayed where it was.

“Eden.”

“Yes?”

“Come back after you write your father.”

“I will.”

“Bring the book.”

She smiled. “You haven’t finished the chapter I left you.”

“Maybe I want you to read it.”

“Perhaps you want to argue about the heroine again.”

“She’s still making a fool of herself.”

“Then you’ll have a great deal to say.”

His fingers rested beside hers another moment before he withdrew his hand.

Eden stood, taking her paper with her. At the door, she paused.

“Jesse?”

He opened his eye.