As she turned over, her wound brushed against the mattress. A wave of pain made her brow furrow tightly.
Morgan Joyce quickly reached out, his arm sliding under Hannah Hale's back just before it touched the bed. His movements were swift but incredibly gentle, terrified of causing her more pain.
"Silly girl, don't move. Your back is injured."
Morgan Joyce's voice, gentle as a breeze, washed over Hannah Hale. She drowsily clutched his sleeve before drifting back to sleep.
Morgan Joyce sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He gently patted Hannah Hale's arm with his large hand, his patience like that of someone coaxing a child to sleep.
Once he saw that she had fallen soundly asleep, Morgan Joyce carefully pried her hand from his sleeve. He reached over her body, bracing one arm on the bed. With his other hand, he gently lifted her hospital gown. The large swaths of bruising across her back came into view, and a sharp pang of pain shot through his heart.
