Rose didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
Ryan only ever acknowledged her when no one else was around. The moment another pair of eyes might be watching, he became meticulous about keeping his distance.
"Caught it pretty bad?" he asked.
She gave a noncommittal shrug.
"Did you take anything for it?"
Without looking at him, she answered, "Yeah."
"You're lying."
His voice was calm, almost conversational.
It wasn't concern.
It was certainty.
Rose fell silent.
He remembered.
For a brief moment, she had forgotten that Ryan knew her better than almost anyone.
When they had first married, long before the silence between them became permanent, she'd refused to take medicine whenever she got sick.
She hated pills.
She hated cough syrup even more.
In
