Page 218 of End Game

His voice has gone softer. “How far away are you?”

I think about the question. “Not far.”

“That's not a measurable unit.”

I smile lazily.

“There you are,” he murmurs.

That makes me smile more.

Ronan reaches for the water on his nightstand.

He puts it in my hand but doesn't let go until my fingers close around it properly.

“Drink.”

I take a few swallows, then more because he's watching.

“Good.”

I laugh weakly. “You're weaponizing that word.”

“I noticed.”

“Asshole.”

“Better.”

He takes the water back.

I lie there while he cleans us up with a warm washcloth.

By the time he finishes, the floaty feeling has started to recede enough that I can recognize it for what it was.

Something I know academically and have watched happen to other people without ever getting anywhere near it myself.

I look at Ronan. “I think you broke my brain.”

His mouth curves. “I don't think I broke it.”

“It stopped.”

“That isn't the same thing.”

“I've never done that before.”

The humor leaves his expression. “I know.”

“You know?”

“You got quieter. Your latency increased when I asked questions. Your muscles relaxed instead of tensing as you got closer.”

I stare at him. “You clinically observed me into subspace?”

“Not deliberately.”

A laugh escapes me.