Morgan Joyce, fuming, moved the medical kit from the bed to the table. But the moment his eyes fell on Hannah Hale, his expression instantly softened. "It's getting late. You should lie down and get some more sleep."
Hannah Hale nodded. After hesitating for a few seconds, she looked at Nathan Redgrave. "You should go home for now. My injuries aren't actually that serious."
"I'm not leaving. If anyone's leaving, it should be him."
"Nathan Redgrave, can you just stop? I'm so tired. And us… some wounds are real. They don't just disappear without a trace because you want them to. I'm just a normal, ordinary person. I get tired, I get hurt, I grow weary, and my heart grows cold. So please, I'm begging you, just stop."
For a moment, a dazed look flickered in Nathan Redgrave's dark eyes. He covered Hannah Hale's hand with his own, his well-defined fingers prying hers open to interlace them tightly.
