Page 111 of Loyalty

“And that was what, exactly?”

John glanced at her over his shoulder, and then gestured to different shelves as he spoke. “I organized them by author—I take it the more you have by the same author, the more you like them.”

Siena nodded. “I mean, yeah.”

“So, your favorites are at the top, in alphabetical order.” John gestured at the shelves down below. “And the rest are organized in alphabetical order.”

“You know readers discover new authors who are favorites, but they only have one or two books, right?”

John gave her a look, and pointed at the third shelf. “Any books that seemed like you had thumbed through them a lot, or the spines seemed worn from being cracked open a few times, are here.”

She didn’t have any rhyme or reason to her bookshelves, and she wasn’t really overly particular about what to do with them. It wasn’t that it bothered her for John to reorganize something in her place.

Not at all.

It was something else entirely.

“When did you get up, John?”

“Two, or something. I took a run, too.”

She looked down the hallway where a small window overlooked the cold, white outside. “Outside?”

“Where else?”

“It’s almost the end of January.”

And it was cold.

“I needed a run.”

He said it so flippantly. His attention was already back on the books.

“And you’re not tired at all?” she pressed.

“Nope.”

He hadn’t looked tired, either.

She remembered things about bipolar disorder that she had found on the web. Sure, she didn’t think that it should be taken as gospel, but it was still concerning.

“Do you have to run over to your place this morning, or anything?” she asked.

John spun around to give her a smile. “Nope. I’m all yours today.”

“Not for anything, John?”

Like his meds.

John gave her an odd look. “No.”

“You didn’t want to sleep, or what?”

“I had things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

Slowly, John turned to face her. “Just … some things.”