Page 184 of Override

"You." The answer comes without hesitation.

Something inside my chest trips over itself. "Oh."

Keaton glances at the floor again, then bends to pick up the pillow. "I tried the couch."

"You did?"

"Forty-seven minutes." Of course he knows exactly how long.

"And?"

"It wasn't working."

"The couch?"

"No. Me."

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Keaton picks up the blanket and folds it once before setting it against the wall.

"I couldn't sleep because I couldn't see the hallway from there."

I look past him toward the living room.

Then back at the place where he'd been lying. Directly outside my door.

"You've been sleeping on the floor because you wanted to see my door?"

"Technically, I haven't been sleeping."

"Keaton."

His eyes meet mine. "I know you're safe." The humor leaves his voice. "I checked the perimeter. Twice. Bullet's security system is irritatingly competent, and no one followed us."

"Okay..."

"But knowing those things wasn't enough."

My breath catches. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, and for the first time since I met the man behind Taibhse, he looks uncomfortable. Not nervous. Keaton doesn't seem like a man who gets nervous. Just confused. As though he's trying to explain something to me he hasn't managed to understand himself.

"I feel better when I'm close to you." The words settle quietly between us. His brow furrows. "I don't know why yet."

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

His eyes narrow. "I'm glad my psychological crisis is amusing."

"I'm sorry."

"You're smiling."

"I know."

"Which suggests you're not sorry."

"I'm a little sorry."

"Statistically insignificant."