Zoe POV

James helps me sit up with both hands, careful in the way of someone handling something fragile, and I almost tell him to stop.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

“You were up all night.” He says it without accusation, just observation, the kind of statement that doesn’t require a response. “And you slept through until three in the afternoon.” He looks at me with the specific attention of someone who has been watching someone else ...