Savannah's POV
"What are you talking about, Savannah?"
I used to think wives were being dramatic when they claimed to prefer their husbands unconscious.
Now I understand completely.
I actually preferred Jonathan during his coma over this moment, where he stares at me like I just announced the apocalypse instead of showing him a simple medical bill.
Still, seeing Jonathan without his usual cold, calculating mask was oddly refreshing. Whether it was the disheveled hair or that bewildered expression, he looked almost vulnerable.
His dark hair stuck out in wild directions and his face bore the evidence of violence, bruised and swollen. Despite my anger, I couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for this broken man.
Not enough sympathy to forget why I was furious with him for landing a group of teenage werewolves in the hospital after one of his drinking binges.
I pulled out my phone, displaying the message his father had forwarded about the medical expenses for those kids.
