Eli didn’t realise he’d slept until the pillow stirred. And only when it stirred did he realise it wasn’t a pillow at all, but someone’s shoulder.
He sat up, and his jacket slid off his shoulders where someone had tucked it. Danny was gone. The cubicle curtains were half-open, sunlight streaming across the gleaming floor of the ward, and Rob—his shoulder having seemingly served as Eli’s pillow—was shifting restlessly in the bed.
“Hey, ssh,” Eli soothed, reaching out to stroke his hair with one hand and press the call button with the other. “It’s alright, babe.”
Grey-white eyes appeared through the slimmest of cracks between cheek and lid. Eli kissed one stern eyebrow, stroking Rob’s hair and swallowing down the lump of pure relief in his throat, even as Rob made a faint noise of discomf
