The only other person in the room was Jack. Whenever Emmett opened his eyes, his partner was there, hand in Emmett’s, concern etched into every feature. “You’ll be all right,” he promised. His deep voice was the only sound Emmett heard, waking or asleep. It sounded like the voice of God, watching over him, assuring him everything would be fine.
At some point his breathing eased and his fever broke, leaving him pale and weak, but at least he was alive. The pain in his leg flowed like the tide, washing over him when he least expected it, but for the moment, it was calm. Both Jack’s large hands held one of Emmett’s own. Before he even roused himself, he knew he had pulled through. The worst was over—he was on the mend, and he knew he only had one man to thank for that. His fingers curled around Jack’s as he opened his eyes and he smiled at his partner. “Hey.”
“Emmett,” Jack sighed.