She'd always thought Cameron Langston wore his feelings the way some people wore clothes that didn't quite fit — everything visible, nothing perfectly contained. Even now, at five in the morning, his face was readable in the way Carter's never was without effort. He was holding two coffee cups from somewhere, a twenty-four hour place nearby probably, and he looked like he hadn't slept either, but where Carter's sleeplessness had produced a stripped-back quietness, Cameron's had produced something more exposed.He saw her and something in his posture shifted. Settled. The particular involuntary response of a person whose nervous system registers the presence of the one it's been waiting for.She noticed it and felt, simultaneously, warmth and a distant warning."You didn't have to come down," he said."You're in the lobby at five AM." She crossed to him. "What's going on?"He held out one of the coffee cups. She took it — the warmth of it was immediately welcome. He looked at it in her
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