In the morning, Milo spent time with Andrew as he listened to the doctor explain his condition.
He could hear better today. The whole time, Salvatore stayed in the room with him, repeatedly asking what might have happened and what they should do.
Milo could tell the man truly cared about him.
Then, in the afternoon, he stirred from a nap. The bedroom was dim, but a warm beam of sunlight pierced through the thick curtains. Milo realized he might have slept too long.
He turned over, his eyes widening.
Salvatore sat on the edge of the bed, holding a ceramic bowl of warm chicken broth.
"Sir..."
"Eat something. Then we'll go out." Salvatore dipped the spoon into the broth and blew on it before holding it to Milo's lips.
Milo sat propped up against the pillows, his hands still securely bound in thick white cotton bandages to prevent his nails from scratching his healing skin.
He leaned forward and swallowed the broth slowly, the liquid soothing his raw throat.
