The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and the low hum of machines filled the air. Ethan sat propped against the pillows, his leg wrapped tightly in bandages. His head ached, his ankle throbbed, and though he hated to admit it, the fear of being sidelined gnawed at him.
The door creaked open. Riley slipped inside carrying a paper bag, her eyes darting immediately to him.
“You should be resting,” Ethan muttered, forcing a grin.
Riley set the bag on the side table. “And you should be asleep, but here we are. I brought you something.
He raised a brow. “What is it, a magic cure?
She pulled out a thermos. “Soup. From my aunt’s recipe. It won’t heal your ankle, but it might keep you from starving.
Ethan smirked. “You’re going to spoil me.
“Somebody has to,” she teased, pouring so
