The next morning.
Tessa felt like her arms were weighed down by stone, and her throat was bone-dry, as if she hadn’t had a sip of water in days. The last time she drank anything was at dusk yesterday.
Morning light slipped through the window, stabbing her eyes with a painful brightness. Slowly, her senses returned. The chills had stopped wracking her body, and the sharp ache in her side had dulled to something manageable. She wasn’t fully recovered yet, but she was getting there. Even so, she stayed frozen in bed. Not because of the pain, not because of a fever, but because of someone else.
Nathan was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows, and the faint shadows under his eyes ma
