Chapter 16

Because for all the imperfections, Sullivan Eberle was even more imposing in his bare feet. He would never be mistaken for anything but the soldier he’d been. He might be young in years, but the age behind those blue eyes, made even brighter by the slight bloodshot running through them, was endless.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Rafe said. It sounded feeble, even to his ears.

“I never fell asleep.”

“Never?”

“I wasn’t tired.”

“What did you do all night?”

A slight frown furrowed Sullivan’s brow. “Nothing. I just sat on the couch.”

“All night. You didn’t read or go for a walk or anything?”

“You told me not to go out.” As if suddenly aware of his hands, he tucked them behind his back. It had the unfortunate effect of stretching the shirt more tightly across his broad chest. “And I’m not much of a reader. Sorry.”

The apology felt uncomfortably genuine, like he’d let Rafe down in some manner. Rafe’s surprise evaporated. He shouldn’t have made assumptions.