Ezra may have been dead asleep two minutes ago, but he was wide awake now and his mind was racing. He hadn't seen Rosalie since Halloween — not in any meaningful way, at any rate. They hadn't parted on good terms to say the least. He hadn't expected to have anything resembling a civil conversation with her ever again, really... and yet here she was in his bedroom. Even when they'd been happy it would have been shocking for her to have shown up in his bedroom, so given the circumstances here he had to assume she had been quite desperate. But what could possibly happened that would make her desperate to talk to him? And in such circumstances?

She was going to explain, but he had to promise to hear her out. Ezra tensed even farther. This didn't sound good. "Did something happen?" he asked in a hush — and sort of hated how obvious the concern was in his tone. Because he shouldn't care, after she'd left him; he shouldn't care, after they'd been separated for years; he shouldn't care, after the way they'd left things on Halloween; he shouldn't care, when she'd never given him the chance to explain himself back then; he shouldn't care, when she thought so little of him that she could believe he was planning to let their hypothetical child die. But if she was in his room in the middle of the night he had to think that something was very wrong, and even though he shouldn't have cared he couldn't help how it crept into his voice.

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