Michael’s hands were shaking. He was as nervous as the day he’d graduated from the academy. The parking lot of the hospital was packed. He sat in his truck staring at the stupid, stuffed Cop Bear his mother had bought for Angel and at the bag of his partner’s favorite junk food next to it. Angel’s face had taken quite a beating and he had a couple of cracked ribs that kept him griping and miserable, but there were surprisingly no internal injuries. He would be back to his old self soon enough. Michael missed him—his voice, his smell, and his smile. He couldn’t believe he’d be staying at Angel’s while his partner mended. His mother and he had stocked Angel’s refrigerator and helped Michael clean Angel’s house while he was away. His mother enjoyed helping, and Michael noted that they seemed
