Damon did not sleep that night.
He knew this about himself by the second hour of lying in the dark staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head and his mind refusing to do what he was telling it to do. He had learned over five years not to fight the sleepless nights. Fighting them made it worse. He lay still and he let his mind move through whatever it needed to move through and eventually either it tired itself out or dawn arrived and he got up and both outcomes were equally acceptable.
Tonight his mind had one subject.
The woman at the food table.
He turned it over the way he had been turning it over since he walked away from her at the gathering. Iris Vale. Millhaven. Northern territories. Quiet voice. Steady eyes. Holding her cup the way someone holds something when their
