Bonus Chapter 1
Diana's POV
The office felt quieter than usual as I shut down my computer, the familiar hum of the building settling into evening stillness. My first full day back, and while my body protested every movement with dull aches, there was something deeply satisfying about reclaiming this space, this routine.
"Diana!" Sophia's voice cut through my thoughts. She appeared in my doorway with Rachel close behind, both wearing matching grins. "We're taking you to dinner. No arguments."
Rachel was already shaking her head before I could speak. "Don't even think about saying no. First day back—we're celebrating."
The offer was tempting. But something in me recoiled from the idea of sitting in a restaurant making small talk while wondering whether Jack had run into Lena today, whether he knew I was back at work, whether that meant he'd stop showing up at my apartment with soup and terrible jokes and that steady presence that had somehow become the axis my days revolved around.
"Rain check?" I managed a smile. "Next time, we'll make it proper. Bring Lena too."
Sophia's eyes narrowed—too perceptive by half—but she didn't push. "Promise?"
"Promise."
Their voices faded down the hallway, leaving me alone with the uncomfortable tangle of thoughts I'd been avoiding all day.
---
The taxi ride home was a study in self-recrimination. I watched the city lights blur past and tried to talk myself down from something that felt dangerously like anticipation.
He'd been there every day while I was recovering. Of course he had—he felt guilty about the accident, responsible in that bone-deep way good men carried burdens that weren't theirs. But now I was back at work, visibly fine, no longer in need of monitoring or soup deliveries or someone to help me navigate healing.
Would he even know I'd gone back? Lena might mention it, or he might see it in some report, and that would be that. The visits would taper off. The texts would become less frequent. We'd drift back into separate orbits, and I'd be left with nothing but the memory of what it felt like to matter to someone, even temporarily.
You're being ridiculous, I thought viciously. You barely know him. You've never even been on a real date. What are you expecting?
My mother's voice echoed: Men make promises they don't keep, Diana. They say what you want to hear until they don't need you anymore.
I'd built my entire adult life on that warning, had chosen law precisely because it dealt in contracts rather than the slippery uncertainty of trust. And yet here I was, utterly unmoored by the possibility that a man I'd known for mere months might stop caring now that I no longer needed saving.
The taxi pulled up to my building. I paid the driver with shaking hands, hating myself for the weakness.
My life had been perfectly fine before Jack Harrison entered it with his quiet competence and unexpected gentleness, and it would be perfectly fine when he inevitably exited.
I let myself into my apartment and stood in the small entryway, breathing in the familiar scent of home—coffee and old books and faint lavender.
This was good. This was enough. Work and purpose and fighting for people who needed someone in their corner. I didn't need the complication of feelings that made me vulnerable.
I kicked off my shoes and firmly shoved every thought of Jack into a mental box labeled Do Not Open. Tomorrow I'd wake up, go to work, continue building the advocacy network with Lena, and my life would return to its previous shape—controlled, purposeful, safe.
It would be fine.
It had to be.
---
Morning came too early, sunlight cutting through the gap in my curtains. My ribs protested as I moved—still healing, still tender—and I lay there taking inventory of the various aches that had become constant companions.
But there was work to do. I couldn't afford to linger in bed nursing injuries that would heal in their own time.
I showered carefully, dressed in clothes that didn't require too much reaching, and was halfway through mentally composing my to-do list when the doorbell rang.
I froze, coffee mug suspended halfway to my lips.
It was barely seven-thirty. Sophia and Rachel wouldn't show up unannounced this early, and Lena always texted first. Which left—
No. Don't even think it.
But my traitorous heart was already racing as I crossed to the door and peered through the peephole.
Jack stood in the hallway, slightly rumpled in a way that suggested he'd been up for hours, holding a paper bag that smelled like fresh pastries and a bouquet of white roses wrapped in brown paper.
I stood there, hand on the doorknob, completely frozen. What was he doing here? The flowers—were they just friendly, or—
Stop. Don't read into it. Don't hope.
I opened the door, and his face broke into a smile that did terrible things to my carefully constructed defenses.
"Morning," he said, and there was something uncertain in his voice. "I brought breakfast. And these." He held up the flowers almost sheepishly. "To celebrate you being back at work."
I stared at him, brain struggling to form words. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to." He shifted his weight, and I realized with a jolt that he was nervous. "I'm sorry I haven't been around the past few days. I should have—I mean, I had something I needed to take care of—"
"Jack." I cut him off gently, falling back on the safe script. "It's okay. You have your own life. You don't need to revolve around me. As a friend—" I forced the word out, hating how it tasted, "—I'm grateful for everything you did. But you don't owe me anything."
Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe—but he just nodded. "Can I come in?"
I stepped back, letting him into my small apartment, hyper-aware of the intimacy of the space, the unmade bed visible through my half-open bedroom door.