Jaxon felt heavy, like his whole body had sunk into the bed. A dull, steady ache wrapped around his chest, tightening every time he breathed.
The sharp smell of alcohol and ointment filled his nose, and something warm rested against his shoulder.
His eyes fluttered open.
Turning his head slowly, he saw Isabel and Cindy asleep beside him, curled close, breathing slow and even.
Then he saw Natasha standing near the bed.
She was staring at him, arms crossed, but her eyes were red and swollen, as if she had cried herself dry.
Jaxon swallowed. "Hey."
"Don't move," she said at once, turning her face away. "You'll make it worse."
Only then did he notice the tight bandages around his chest, wrapped in layers. His shoulder was packed with folded cloth and taped down to keep it steady.
"You've got at least one cracked rib," Natasha said. "Maybe more. I wrapped your chest to limit movement."
