Hillary
“Ben, Ben?” I shake him gently again.
I don’t mind him sleeping, if there’s one thing he doesn’t get much of, it is sleep. And at times like this, when he falls asleep at work, I just want to let him be. But it’s been three hours, and the worst part is how much he’s been sweating and whimpering in his sleep. I heard Isabel snapping at him for thrashing the rest of his drugs just because he felt good already.
Now I’m worried he might be dying in his sleep or something. I mean, that’s far-fetched, but still, he is drenched, and the AC is on full blast.
“Ben,” I shake again, harder this time, and he finally groans and lifts his head.
“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” I ask.
It takes him a minute to sit up and open his eyes properly. He squints at me, pushing his curls back.
“Where
