“You’re sure you’re okay?” Charles asks, standing at the end of Jane’s hospital bed. Charles has been in and out more times than I can count, retrieving little things for Jane: takeout from a Thai place down the street, a stunning peacock-blue cashmere throw from who knows where, and an assortment of shirts to choose from when Jane goes home tomorrow (today’s ended up in a hazmat bag). “You don’t need anything else?” He puts his hands on his hips and surveys the small space as if looking for something else to contribute.

“You’ve done too much already.” Jane’s words are thick from painkillers. He had local anesthesia for the stitches and received a solid dose of something after that’s left him endearingly loopy. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely.” Charles beams. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. You, too, Bennet. Are you sure I can’t pick up something for you? Something to change into tomorrow?”

I smile back. It seems Jane’s dad’s chief-surgeon influence extends to the opposite side of the country. Dr. Okogu pulled those very long strings to get his son a private room for the evening, as well as permission for me to stay as company. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be back by eight tomorrow,” he says, reaffirming his promise to be here for Jane’s release, provided we get the go-ahead from his doctor.

“Thank you again for that,” I say, meaning it. Toby was sympathetic when I called to tell him I wouldn’t be back this afternoon but made a point of confirming I’d be in first thing.

“Happy to help.” Charles rests a hand on Jane’s foot, rubbing it gently through the throw. He draped the blanket over Jane with such care earlier, I felt like a voyeur. “Good night.” He pats Jane’s foot one last time, then walks out the door.

Jane smiles at the empty doorway. “I really like him, Ben.”

“I like him, too,” I say. “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I wanna call him.”

“He left six seconds ago.” I laugh. “Careful. He may not even be out of earshot.”

“So? It’s nice knowing someone likes you. And I know he likes me. He brought me flowers.” Jane points to the generous arrangement of white orchids Charles bought on our way in.

“They are lovely.” I scoot my chair closer, resting my elbows beside him on the mattress.

“I probably wouldn’t have bought him flowers.” His brow furrows. “I’d have wanted to but been afraid I was coming on too strong. I would have asked you for advice and you’d have told me to hold off, too. We’re too guarded, Ben. We let each other be too guarded.”

I prop my head up on my hand, a coil of anxiety twisting in my sternum. “Is this the head trauma talking?”