“I know,” Logan conceded. “Apart from day clinics for minor stuff, I avoid these places.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Hana bent to undo the bag, trying not to see the internal pain in her husband’s eyes. “But I didn’t see any alternative.”
Perhaps a bed ridden, drugged up Logan might have been easier to handle than the hurt, angry man balling his fists next to her. “Hop back into bed,” Hana suggested. “You’re shivering.”
Logan’s face projected pure agony. He sat on the bed and tried to swing his legs around. As Hana struggled to work the pedal to raise the headboard, a nurse appeared with a plastic cup containing drugs. She pushed a different pedal to the one Hana wrestled with and the bed rose up with ease.
“Oh. Oops.” Hana felt her incompetence flare in the face of such efficiency. The nurse
