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His grip loosens and he moves away just enough for me to get up.
When I come back and climb in, he’s looking at me. It’s still kind of dim in here, but it looks like he’s staring at me with surprise. Maybe he’s surprised I’ve gotten back into bed.
“Did you sleep much?” I ask.
He stares at me with his brows knitted. “Not much.”
“What time did you get back?” I ask. Not like it matters. I guess I’m making conversation. Seeing if he wants to talk.
“Back?”
“From New York.”
“I got back from New York on Sunday night.”
It’s now Thursday morning. I frown.
“I stayed at the apartment,” he explains, obviously reading my confusion.
“Is Grace back, too?”
“She’s at their Manhattan apartment.”
“Anybody else back?”
He shrugs.
So he was there by himself for the last few days. And this means he’s been half an hour away for three days.
“You’re upset with me for that?” he asks.
I try to clear my expression.
I’ve got a lot to be angry with Derek for, but I shouldn’t be upset about being left here. He lost his mother. But he does have me under guard, doesn’t he? Has he been watching me? I don’t bother to ask. Instead, I ask, “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
The frown lines on his forehead deepen.
He finally says, “No.”
“Okay,” I whisper, about to turn back over to see if I can find sleep again.
“Could you…” he starts but doesn’t finish.
“Could I?” I repeat, letting it hang.
I wait.
“Never mind.”
I wait anyway, eyes on him.
He clears his throat. “When Carson called with the news, you… rubbed my back.”
I nod a little.
He doesn’t say anything else, but the pain in his features intensifies.
“Do you… want me to do that now?”
