Lyra’s chest tightened suddenly, and a cough burst from her lips, harsh and dry.
Kyson immediately shot up from his seat like he’d been jolted. “Hey—careful,” he said, reaching for the water on the bedside table. He held the glass to her lips with one hand and gently supported her back with the other. “Small sips.”
She took the glass with shaky fingers, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. Their hands brushed briefly, and she felt a warmth rise that had nothing to do with the fever.
“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes a little wide. There was something deeply disorienting about seeing him like this—caring, worried, present. It tugged at something inside her she wasn’t ready to face.
“You shouldn’t talk too much,” Kyson muttered, rubbing the back of his neck again as he looked away. “J
