He sat up instantly, his dark eyes widening as he reached for a small plastic cup of water on the bedside table.
“Take it slow, Mal,” he said, his voice a low, heavy rumble. “Just a tiny sip first.”
He held the straw to my lips, and the cool water felt like a miracle as it slid down my parched throat.
I managed to turn my head slightly, my left hand twitching toward my wrist, but there was no shirt cuff there to smooth, only a blue plastic hospital band snug against my skin.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice slightly clearer now. “What time is it?”
“Nebraska Medical Center,” he said, setting the cup down with a deliberate, slow movement. “It is just past eight in the morning.”
“The payroll run,” I said, my mind trying to grasp the numbers from the Hayes and Associates quarterly audit. “I have to finish the balance sheets.”
Ethan shook his head, his hand returning to grip mine with a firm, quiet strength.
“The payroll is done, Mallory,” he said. “You have been asleep for nine days.”
