“The storm is keeping me awake.”

Nathan set his keys on the small console table.

They made a sharp, metallic clink that made me flinch.

He looked at me for a long moment, his surgical eyes dissecting my face.

“You look pale,” he said.

He walked closer, his wet coat rustling in the quiet house.

He reached out and touched my cheek with his thumb.

His hand was cold, smelling faintly of antiseptic soap.

“Just tired,” I lied, keeping my eyes fixed on his collar.

“Did you check on Lily?” he asked.

My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

“She’s sound asleep,” I said.

“And my mother?”

His voice was entirely neutral, the tone he used when delivering difficult diagnoses to patients.

“She’s in bed too,” I said.

Nathan nodded slowly.

He unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the wooden peg by the door.

“I have a difficult case tomorrow,” he said.

“I need to review some charts in the study before I sleep.”

My chest tightened.

If he went into his office now, I wouldn’t have the chance I needed.