He wasn't sure how well the ibuprofen was working, but she was the nurse, so he wasn't going to try and pressure her into taking something harder. He waited until Cecilia got as comfortable as she could in her position and then sat cautiously on the edge of the bed, ready to set the tray over her lap when she was ready for it. The bruising on her face was more prominent than it had been yesterday but he knew they always got worse before they began to fade. It still put an uncomfortable, angry feeling in his gut every time he looked at her, and he felt a surge of twisted satisfaction that Simms was gone.
"Vegetable soup and ham and cheese," Owen said, reaching over to pick up the tray. "Jack could probably make you something hot that tastes better than I could, but this'll probably be easier on your stomach. I can feed the dogs in a few too, if they haven't eaten yet." Dempsey had eaten already and was currently napping on the living room couch. He'd look so comfortable Owen hadn't had the heart to nudge him off.