Not with Diamond looking at him like that. Like she was waiting for the ground to shift beneath her feet. Like she was daring him to flinch.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
There was a hell of a lot he didn’t know about her. He wasn’t stupid. He could see it in the way she held herself, as if therewere chapters of her story written in blood and smoke, ones she’d never let anyone read.
And yeah, he wanted to know it all. Every sharp edge, every scar, every name she refused to speak. But he wasn’t gonna ask for it. Not yet.
She’d tell him when she was ready. If she was ever ready.
All he knew was the look in her eyes just now saiddon’t leave, even if she didn’t say the words. And he’d been left enough times in his life to know what it meant to stay.
He wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she told him to. He squeezed her hand once, low and solid beneath the chatter of the nurse. And when she squeezed back, just barely—he knew.
They’d figure the rest out on the ride home.
Sayer signed where the nurse told him to, only half-listening as she ran through aftercare instructions he already knew by heart. He’d be stiff for a while. He’d heal. He’d live.
It was the living part that felt heavier than usual.
Not because of the pain—but because ofher.
Diamond didn’t hover. She wasn’t the hand-holding type, and he respected the hell out of that. But she was there, solid at his side, her silence louder than anything the nurse had to say.
When they finally wheeled him down—hospital policy, even though he’d insisted he could walk—he caught the flicker of tension in her shoulders. Like she was waiting for someone to step in and stop them.
No one did.
Out front, the sun was blinding after days under too-white, fluorescent lights. The air was cold, crisp, and real in a way he hadn’t felt since before everything went sideways.
Diamond opened the passenger door for him, and he didn’t miss the way her fingers lingered on the handle before letting go.
He eased himself into the seat with a quiet grunt, settling back as the door shut with a cleanclick.
She rounded the front of the truck and slid into the driver’s seat like she’d always been there. Like she was meant to be.
Sayer turned his head, slow and careful.
“You really gonna drive this thing without hitting a bump?” he asked, smirking just a little.
Diamond glanced over, mouth curving. “No promises.”
He chuckled, low in his chest, then let his head rest against the window.
As she pulled away from the hospital, he stared out at the road ahead—broken, winding, unfamiliar—and felt something settle in his chest.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Diamond had spentthe last hour watching Sayer shift in his seat, trying and failing to get comfortable. No position seemed to ease his discomfort.
“Sayer, why don’t you go lay down for a little while?”
He glanced over at her, brow pinched, and she could tell he was trying to tough it out. But the waistband of his jeans was digging into the wound on his side, and the sunlight streaming through the windshield wasn’t doing his headache any favors.
“You got this?” he asked, voice low and sincere.
Her chest ached. “I’ll be better knowing you’re resting comfortably.”
