The room was already full when Anderson stepped closer to the bed. He stood between Laurel and the light, shoulders squared, jaw set. Serena hovered near the foot of the bed with a folded tissue in her fist, eyes red but dry. A monitor clicked softly in the corner. Nancy breathed in short, shallow pulls.
No one was talking. The silence had weight. Ben stood by the door, hands behind his back, watching the corridor.
Anderson did not ask questions. He did not look around to collect the facts. He fixed his eyes on Laurel as if she were the only thing that mattered and the one thing that did not belong.
Laurel opened her mouth. “I—"
His hand moved before the rest of him did. The slap was fast and flat. The sound cracked against the sterile walls. Heat flared across Laurel's cheek. She sway
