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Colt waits until he is gone. “That man has never been on a boat.”

“His wife sails.”

“Does she take him?”

“I have not asked.”

“Somebody who loves him bought that tie. He’s protecting a marriage.”

I laugh.

My hand is still on his shoulder.

He goes still for half a second, then keeps the rotation slow and controlled and does not look up. He begins explaining Guerra’s probable fear of open water as though the edge of the table has become fascinating.

If he looks at me, I will move my hand.

He knows it. I know that he knows it.

Neither of us tests it.

I leave my hand where it is until the set ends, and I am going to think about that later, in a different room, and I know that too.

When he sits up, the darker skin beneath his eyes is harder to ignore.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Better.”

“That is not a measurement.”

“Bed last night.”

“And before that?”

His mouth loses some of the smile. “Mack’s place. Friday and Saturday. Sierra left.”

“His girlfriend.”

“Yeah. We watched television.”

He offers nothing else.

“Wherever you sleep, the arm needs support.”

“All right, Doc.”

I do not tell him to stop going to Mack’s.

He folds the sheet again.

“Thursday’s at the facility?”

“Maren confirmed the force plates this morning.”

“Good. I’ll show you the good coffee.”

“After we work.”