“Where are your things?”
“I moved them.”
“Why?”
“I’ll sleep in the spare room.”
His gaze came back to me.
“We didn’t share this room?”
“We did.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You know what I mean.”
I leaned against the dresser, needing support I did not want him to see.
“You don’t remember agreeing to share a bed with me. You deserve privacy.”
“Do you want privacy?”
“No.”
I answered too quickly.
Noah’s gaze sharpened.
I continued carefully.
“But wanting something does not make it appropriate.”
“What do you think I’m afraid you’ll do?”
“I don’t know what will frighten you.”
“Have I acted frightened of you?”
“At the hospital, yes.”
His expression fell.
“You flinched when I reached for you.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
The words came out harsher than intended.
I softened my voice.
“I remember enough for both of us right now. That means I’m careful.”
He looked toward the bed.
