"Is it too fluffed? I can flatten it a bit." I punch at Kellan's pillow again, trying to get it just right. "Sorry, I'm not used to hospital pillows. They're always either too flat or too lumpy."
His eyes follow me as I circle the bed, adjusting his blanket for the fifth time in twenty minutes. I separate the orange slices I've peeled into perfect little crescents, arranging them on the napkin like a sunburst. He hasn't even touched the first one I sat out fifteen minutes ago.
"Here, you should eat something," I say, pushing the tray closer. "Unless you don't like oranges? I can find something else. Maybe the cafeteria has—"
"Are you okay, or are you trying to smother me with kindness?" Kellan asks, his voice completely flat.
I blink at him, frozen mid-orange adjustment. "You saved my life. Am I not allowed to be a little doting?"
Kellan narrows his eyes. "You don't dote. You sass. I'm concerned."
