Grey still stood at the entrance of the ward room, his tall frame blocking half the light from the hallway. For a long moment, he didn't move, he didn't blink, he just stared, cold, still, unreadable, at me and Natasha tangled under the thin hospital blanket.
My breath hitched, Natasha's arm was still around my waist from where we'd fallen asleep, and I could practically feel her heartbeat spike through her skin the moment she noticed him.
The silence grew thick and suffocating even before I finally forced the words out.
"Uhmm… good morning," I whispered, trying to steady the tremor in my voice. The air felt frozen between us, like saying those two words had somehow cracked the tension instead of easing it.
Natasha turned fast, sitting up beside me. Her messy hair fell across her face, and her eyes flashed with anger the moment they met mine, anger not at me, but at him.
