Later, after Alexander had left and her mother had dozed off in the chair and the room had settled into its evening quiet, Damien sat beside her bed and looked at her with the expression she'd been watching him try to manage all day.
"Say it," she said.
"Say what?"
"Whatever you've been not saying for three days."
He was quiet for a moment. His thumb moved across her hand slowly.
"He's not wrong," Damien said finally. "About the twice."
"Damien..."
"I know you're going to tell me it's not my fault. I know the rational argument." He looked at her. "I'm telling you that sitting here watching you flinch at noises and pretend you're sleeping when you're not..." He stopped. "I just need you to know that I see it. And I'm not going anywhere. And I'm going to spend however long it takes making sure there isn't a third time."
Aria looked at him for a long moment.
"Okay," she said softly.
"Okay?"
