The way she said it—it cost her something. The protector in him stirred hard.
She is not yours, he told himself. She never will be.
But he nodded anyway and moved to the other side of the bed, lying on top of the covers, keeping a careful space between them.
She turned to face him in the dark.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ethan did not answer. He stared up at the ceiling as if it held some escape. Not from the bed. Not the room. From her.
God, he was pathetic. One honest moment and he was lying here like a love-struck fool.
He heard her breathing slow as she drifted off. She needed the sleep. After today, she deserved rest. Ethan should have slept too. But how could he? With her so close? With tomorrow uncertain?
He turned his head, just a little, so he could see h
