TESSA
I hate hospitals.
The smell was what hit me first, sharp and sterile, like bleach and death trying to mask each other. I hated them because of my mother. And I still hated them now. The white walls, the quiet humming of the machines, the shuffling of the nurses’ shoes on the too polished floors. Places like this reminded me that bad things were waiting for permission to happen.
Zane was sitting beside me, his hand protectively holding around mine. His full attention on his phone, his jaw tight and shoulders rigid like he was holding in more than just anger.
I watched for him for a minute longer before I finally decided to speak. “Aren’t you going to work?”
He raised his head and turned to look at me, his eyes softening the moment they landed on me. The storm that was raging i
