‘Fine. If that will quiet you down.’

We walk into my room, and I crawl onto the bed. I lie down on top of the covers, thinking he’s making sure that I get some sleep. But instead of leaving, he climbs onto the bed beside me.

‘What are you doing’ I ask.

He lies his cheek on the pillow next to mine and closes his eyes with some relief. ‘Taking a nap.’

‘You’re not going downstairs’

‘Nope.’

‘What about the settee’

‘Too uncomfortable.’

‘I thought you said you’ve slept on rocks in the snow.’

‘I have. That’s why I sleep on soft beds whenever I can.’

5

I expect him to lie there full of tension like me, but his breathing quickly turns deep and slow.

He must be exhausted. Even aside from his lack of sleep and being constantly on red alert, he’s still recovering from his wing injuries, both the initial amputation and the surgery. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.

I lie there, trying to sleep beside him.

The scent of rosemary wafts in through