Ruth's POV
The sharp, acrid smell of disinfectant was eating through my nostrils as I lay restlessly in my bed in the hospital. Rustling paper below me, my lower leg ached with a sore, throbby feeling inside its tightly bandaged cladding. Unbearable pain wasn't there; there was a discomforting realization-reminder-of how careless-or maybe desperate-I'd become.
The door creaked open, and Frank burst in, his face lined with worry, a face usually so composed. He still wore his tailored suit, his tie a little looser, his dark hair rumpled from running his fingers through it a thousand times.
Ruth, what's happened?" he burst out roughly yet solicitously. Suddenly his eyes fastened on my bandaged leg as I stood, guilty at the swiftness with which guilt fell on him. His shadow had leapt to att
