She couldn't sleep.
No matter how hard she tried, rest refused to come. All she could do was force her eyelids shut, pretending that exhaustion would eventually claim her if she willed it enough.
She bit down on her lower lip as guilt slowly crept in, heavy and unwelcome. The room was cold—she could feel it even beneath the thick blanket draped over her body. Her injured foot was carefully elevated on pillows, the cast stiff and unyielding, while her arm rested in a position meant to ease the dull ache running through it. Everything had been arranged for her comfort.
Everything.
The bed was huge. Spacious. Too spacious for just one person.
She knew Kyle wouldn't do anything, not in her condition. He was careful—almost overly so. Still, her thoughts refused to settle, spiraling instead into quiet unease.
Maybe she was thinking too much.
She let out a slow sigh and glanced once more toward the floor.
