Page 30
“Where is she?”
“Home now.”
“She left?”
“She was here for three hours and refused to leave until I promised I would remain until you woke up.”
Something strange warms inside my chest.
I suppress it. “She didn't have to do that.”
“I told her the same thing.”
“I assume she listened.”
“She didn’t.”
“Shocking.”
His gaze stays on me, too steady.
I become aware that my arms are cold. No, not merely cold. I'm shaking. Small tremors move through my hands. The dream hasn't entirely released me. I fold my arms tightly across my chest and rub my palms over them.
His eyes drop to the movement. “You're cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“You're shivering.”
“I can multitask.”
He studies me for another moment. I hate that look. Not because it is threatening. Because it feels observant.
Evan used to watch me that closely, except his attention always felt like searching for evidence. This man looks at me as though he is trying to solve something.
I don't know which is worse.
He reaches toward the chair. I tense before I can stop myself. His hand pauses. Only for a fraction of a second.
But he notices.
Of course he notices.
He picks up a blanket instead and lays it across my legs without touching me.
“Thank you,” I say, quieter than I intend.
He nods, then he steps back.
The distance helps. It also, bizarrely, doesn't.
A nurse appears at the door.
“Mr. Volkov, the radiology team is ready for her,” she says.
Volkov. I file the name away.
Nikolai Volkov.
