She narrowed her eyes and crinkled her nose at him, disdainful of his doubt of her, and went back to writing. Shoes. He would let her stay with him, but for how long? Her gaze slipped out of focus as she wondered what she would do with her time — after all, if he was planning to feed and house her, the time she’d spent every time taking care of those needs would be free time.
She supposed she could spend the time trying to recover her memories. The more she tried to think ahead, the more questions she discovered, and Derek had already refused to answer questions. She frowned worriedly down at the page, flicking her gaze up to watch him through her eyelashes.
Derek came to the conclusion that she liked to write a lot. He watched her closely, still eating his steak. She seemed to drift away from the pad in front of her, but he made a mental note that she would also want shoes.
He raised a brow when he looked back at her and shrugged his shoulders before he picked up both their plates and brought them to the sink. “Would you like anything else?”
Stomach full, comfortable and safe for the first time in weeks, she caught herself zoning out again, watching him move around the kitchen with only a vague awareness. When he spoke again she started, bumping against the table. She put a hand over her heart to try to slow its rapid beating, and slowly, dazedly shook her head.
The couch seemed to cradle her, encouraging her to relax, though her thoughts still whirled madly. She managed to lift one hand, and beckoned to Derek, wondering if he would come and sit with her, maybe let her lean against his side a little.