Nash’s pov
Chloe gathered the empty tray from my lap, her movements unhurried despite the late hour, and I watched her instead of the door, unwilling to look away from her a second sooner than I had to. The candle on the nightstand had burned down to little more than a stub, throwing long shadows across the room, and somewhere below the window a night bird called out twice before falling silent.
"You should sleep." She set the tray on the small table by the window, then turned back toward the bed, studying me with an expression I'd started to recognize over the last two days, caught somewhere between exasperation and a tenderness she clearly hadn't meant to let show. "You look like you're barely holding your eyes open."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." She crossed back to the bed, and before
