Two days later, Rio woke to the steady beeping of the machine beside him, the smell of antiseptic clinging to the air. His body was heavy, his chest sore, and his head still foggy from painkillers. But all that faded the moment his eyes opened.
"Gigi…" His voice was a rasp, a groan pulled from cracked lips. His lashes fluttered, his eyes adjusting to the pale hospital light, and his head turned toward the shadow sitting by the bed.
But it wasn't her.
"She isn't here," came Jack's low voice.
Rio's brow furrowed, a sharp crease between his eyes. He forced himself upright, ignoring the ache in his ribs, the pull of the IV line in his arm. "Where is she?"
"Home," Jack said evenly, folding his arms across his chest. His posture was rigid, as though he'd been standing guard for
