The following morning, Maverick rose early to prepare breakfast before coming to call me from the bedroom.

My head felt heavy, likely from catching a chill overnight with the air conditioning on.

He pressed a hand lightly to my forehead, then stepped out to bring me a mug of warm milk, setting it on the bedside table with a gentle insistence that I drink it.

But something in his eyes—an almost imperceptible flash of something hard and ...