She spotted Devon in the hospital’s waiting room. He rose as she approached, running a hand through his long, black hair.
"They just started stitching him up." He scrunched up his nose. "Didn"t want to sit and watch."
Dom bit back a sarcastic reply. His queasiness about blood was one of the reasons he"d jumped at the chance to get out of the kitchen and behind a desk. If you wanted to be a chef, a good chef, you usually accumulated a lot of cuts and nicks along the way, and fainting at the sight of blood wasn’t a good thing.
"How did it happen?"
"I don"t know. I was out when the staff called. As soon as I heard what happened, I came straight here." He didn"t give details about why he wasn"t at the restaurant, but then he didn"t have to—she could guess.
"Shit." It was hard to keep her
