DeVore set Tim’s suitcase on the floor, easing it down silently onto the Navajo rug that formed a visual foyer into the guest area. The other man sprawled across the bed. He’d kicked off his shoes, but otherwise remained dressed.
DeVore felt a twinge of regret for rushing so hard to get home. Tim had mentioned something about childhood illness and his mother’s fears for his health even now.
I should’ve inquired more. I’ve no idea the harm I’ve caused by failing to make this trip in two more reasonable days. He shook his head, knowing he should step back and shut the door behind him, yet unable to resist the urge to slip closer to the bed and look down at his sleeping visitor.
Tim lay on his right side, one leg drawn up and the other stretched out beneath it. One folded arm pillowed his
