Warrior Twilight 2

Brooklyn sat, dazed, on her couch, only half aware that Mike was making her a peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich in her kitchen. The trip to the police station had simply confirmed her fear: Jordan was dead. The nice, motherly lady at the desk had told her how bad she felt for her and told her to get some rest.
Brooklyn felt like sleeping. Maybe there she could forget about this overwhelming sense of grief. But she didn't want to sleep. Because she knew Jordan wouldn't be there when she woke up.
Tears dripped steadily from her eyes as Mike came back with the plate and a cold glass of milk. He sat down next to her and handed her the sandwich. She stared blankly at it, so he set it down on the coffee table next to where he had set the milk down.
When he leaned back, she rested her head on his chest, his shirt soaking up her tears.

Mike was warm, much warmer than Jordan, but they where both guys, and the familiarity gave her some sense of comfort.
Crying, drained, tired, and exhausted, within a few minutes she had fallen asleep.