Beverly's POV

I gained consciousness slowly, machines beeped steadily beside me and the antiseptic smell of the hospital filled my lungs. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights.

Bruce sat in a chair pulled close to my bed, his hand wrapped around mine. He looked terrible, his face gaunt with exhaustion and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. His clothes were rumpled like he had worn them for days.

"Bruce," I whispered. My throat felt too dry and speaking hurt. ...