As words he’d never thought he’d hear died away he didn’t know what to say. Decided the safest course was to assume she simply meant it was better than the alternative.

“Nobody would want to be alone with this going on.”

“Then let me rephrase. I’m glad it’s you here.”

He went very still. “You’ll be better off when Quinn gets back.”

“Why?”

He blinked. “Because...this is his thing. He looks out for people.”

“It used to be your thing, too.”

“And you of all people know how that turned out.”

“Stop it.” She said it sharply enough that he drew back a little. “Don’t you ever get tired of blaming yourself?”

“Yes,” he said, and it was heartfelt.

“Then stop.”

It should be so easy. “Being tired of it doesn’t change the facts.”

“Yes, facts are facts, but your interpretation of them sucks.” She said it so bluntly he was at a loss for words. “And I know, I was the one who accused you of the same thing you’re blaming yourself for. That’s why I can see so clearly how wrong you are, because now I know how wrong I was.”

He opened his mouth, shut it again and only shook his head wearily.

Amanda stood up suddenly, putting down the pad she’d been writing on. She’d told him she’d begun making notes on her phone, as she usually did when dealing with something complex, but had decided she didn’t want any of this on a hackable device. Quinn had agreed. He’d also suggested the hard copy of the file Adam had just been reading—he’d lost track of how many times—just in case, as long as it never left the house.

“Look,” she said as she came over to stand in front of him, “I understand a lot of this is my fault, for making you feel this way, yelling at you in the hospital when you were down and in pain. I’ll never forgive myself for that, so I understand about that, too.”

“You only said what I was already thinking.”

“But I cemented it good and solid in your head, didn’t I.”

It wasn’t a question, and so Adam didn’t answer.

“I can’t go back and undo what I said, although if I could, I’d do it in a minute. So tell me, Adam, what can I do? How can I make it up to you?”

A dozen answers to that, mostly involving things he’d never dared think of in conjunction with her before, raced through his mind. He cut off the string of thoughts. Just because she apparently no longer hated him didn’t mean she was ready to stroll down the path he was suddenly imagining.