Sleeping in a hospital chair was its own special kind of torture. Abby’s legs ached, her lower back screamed every time she shifted, and the faint chemical smell of disinfectant seemed to cling to the back of her throat. She had barely slept at all, dozing in short, shallow bursts while machines hummed and beeped around her. Each sound made her flinch, her eyes snapping open to check Joe’s chest, to make sure it was still rising and falling.
After calling her mom and then Brooks, she had curled up in the chair beside the bed, folding herself around the armrest like that somehow anchored her there. Leaving had never even been an option. Not last night. Not now.
In the morning, Evan woke her by pressing a paper bag into her hands and giving her a look that brooked no argument.
“You have t
