By hour nine I brought him a paper cup of water and held it to his lips so he wouldn’t have to move his arms.

His face was gray, his back rigid, his left leg cramping and bouncing on the linoleum, but he refused to shift his weight and risk waking her.

Everything was peaceful. Everything was perfect.

Until the heavy double doors swung open and Mr. Sterling, the hospital’s Director of Risk Management, marched in with a tablet and a scowl, the attending physician behind him.

Sterling’s eyes swept the room, landed on the giant in the corner, and his face hardened into bureaucratic fury.

“Nurse Sarah.” His voice clipped through the quiet, sharp enough to cut glass. He didn’t bother to lower it.