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I reached for the water and filled Nyssa’s glass.

“Thank you.”

Two words.

Polite.

I would’ve preferred her anger.

I set the bottle down. She took another bite. Never looked up.

“Your hip.”

Her fork paused.

Finally.

“What about it?”

“You hit it earlier.”

“I’m fine.”

There she was.

Just a flicker.

Anger sharpened the words before disappearing as quickly as it came.

Still…

She didn’t look at me.

I leaned back and watched her. A strand of hair slipped forward against her cheek. Usually I’d reach across and tuck it back. Tonight I didn’t know if she’d let me. That realization landed harder than it should’ve. Mrs. Reid placed fresh bread between us.

“There’s more if either of you are hungry.”

“Thank you,” Nyssa murmured.

Mrs. Reid looked at me.

I gave the smallest shake of my head.

Leave it.

Leave us.

She understood. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Her footsteps faded.

The dining room became enough sticky large. Just Nyssa. Me. And everything neither of us was saying. I reached for the bread. Tore off a piece. Buttered it. Placed it beside her plate.

Her hand stopped.

I waited.

Nothing.