Faith
The morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of St. Jude’s high-security recovery wing carried a quiet, crisp clarity. It was a stark contrast to the dark, violent storm that had threatened to swallow our lives whole just forty-eight hours prior.
I sat propped up against the plush pillows of the hospital bed, the sharp, throbbing ache in my ribs managed by a steady drip of pain medication. The oxygen cannula had been removed, leaving only a small bandage over my left shoulder and the tight, supportive binding around my chest.
Beside me, Nicholas sat on the edge of the mattress, his broad shoulder pressed lightly against mine. He had finally showered and changed into a clean dark suit, though his handsome face still bore the fading exhaustion of a man who had wa
