Another time, he’d spent two days complaining about his ribs after part of a ceiling came down near him.
He always told me afterward.
Usually much afterward.
“What happened?”
Captain Reyes hesitated.
That hesitation made my knees weak.
“Is he alive?”
His eyes widened.
“Yes. Amanda, yes. He’s alive.”
I finally breathed.
It wasn’t relief exactly.
It was enough air to keep me standing.
“Then tell me where my husband is.”
Captain Reyes pulled a chair away from the table.
I ignored it.
“He was taken to St. Matthew’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“He got hurt.”
