I thought he might fall asleep again, but he spoke.
“Sit here for a while.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“No talking.”
“I can manage that.”
He gave me a skeptical look.
“I have hidden depths.”
“You read a forty-page article about battery isolation to me.”
“You requested it.”
“I was concussed.”
“You still are.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
It was enough.
I settled back and let silence grow around us.
Noah’s grip loosened but remained connected to mine.
Twenty minutes passed before his breathing became even.
He did not fully sleep. His thumb occasionally moved across my knuckle, a small motion without apparent intention.
I would have stayed that way all afternoon.
A soft knock interrupted us.
Noah opened his eye.
A woman in a navy blazer stood near the door beside a broad-shouldered man wearing the dark uniform of the county fire service. I recognized the woman from the early investigation. Her name was Mara Sloane, an investigator with the commercial transport division.
The firefighter held a gray plastic case.
“I hope we’re not intruding,” Mara said.
Noah looked at me.
I shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“We can come back,” the firefighter offered.
“What is it?” Noah asked.
Mara stepped inside. “Some of your belongings were recovered from the vehicle. The investigation team has finished documenting them.”
Noah stared at the case.
The firefighter shifted it to his other hand.
