For the next few days, the waters remained calm.

Maverick was scrupulously attentive, his care flawless and meticulous. Every evening, without fail, a warm glass of milk appeared in front of me as if by some unspoken ritual, and he coaxed me into drinking it with an exhausting persistence.

Tonight was no different.

When I demurred, even slightly, he lectured me about how my body was in recovery and how it couldn’t afford to miss a single ounce of ...