Chapter 55
Sienna's POV
Water droplets still clung to his face, damp hair stuck to his forehead, the red in his eyes still visible, but he looked more awake than before.
"All done?"
I nodded.
I didn't know if he'd heard the entire conversation.
Hayes stood there. In the end, he said nothing.
He took a deep breath, walked to the bedside, picked up the thermos, and silently poured me a cup of warm water.
Then held it out to me.
His voice was soft. "Drink some water."
I looked up and saw the suppressed tenderness and restraint in his eyes.
I took the cup.
Hayes turned and walked to the window, his back to me, voice low:
"Sienna."
"I won't ask you why anymore."
"But remember this—"
He turned back, those deep gray-blue eyes fixed on me:
"From today on, you're not alone."
The monitor beeped. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattled past.
I didn't answer. I wasn't sure I could.
Payton burst through the door, carrying fruit and a change of clothes. She'd barely stepped inside when she stopped—sensing the strange atmosphere between Hayes and me.
She glanced at Hayes—still stationed beside me like some kind of sentinel—and raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to move in permanently, or...?"
"Payton." I tried to inject some warning into my tone, but she ignored me.
"Because honestly, Sterling, you look worse than she does." She set her bag down with a decisive thunk. "When's the last time you ate something that wasn't gas station coffee and regret?"
Despite everything, I almost smiled. Trust Payton to cut through tension with her particular brand of bluntness.
Hayes's mouth twitched. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England." She waved a hand dismissively. "Look, I get the whole devoted vigil thing, very romantic and all that. But Sienna needs actual rest, not anxiety about whether you're going to pass out from exhaustion."
"I won't—"
"Argue with me?" Payton finished sweetly. "Smart choice. Now go get some real food, take a shower, maybe sleep for more than thirty minutes. I'll stay with her."
I expected Hayes to push back. Expected that stubborn set to his jaw that meant he wasn't budging. Instead, he looked at me, something complicated passing across his face.
"If anything—"
"If anything happens, you'll be the first to know." Payton's voice softened slightly. "I promise."
Hayes hesitated another moment. Then he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. But he paused with his hand on the handle, looking back at me.
"I'll be back this afternoon."
It wasn't a question. Wasn't a request for permission. Just a statement of fact.
After he left, Payton collapsed into the chair with a dramatic sigh. "Jesus. That man is wound so tight I'm surprised he hasn't spontaneously combusted."
"Payton—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "I've known you for years, Sienna. And I have never—never—seen you look at anyone the way you look at him when you think no one's watching."
My face heated. "I don't—"
"You do." She leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "And he looks at you the same way. Like you're the only thing keeping him upright."
"That's not—"
"What really happened between you two?" The question was gentle but unyielding. "I mean what really happened." She gestured vaguely at the space Hayes had occupied.
I stared at my hands, at the IV tape and the swollen joints. "It's complicated."
"Everything worth having is complicated." Payton's voice softened. "But here's what I know. Six years ago, after you graduated high school, you came back completely gutted. You wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't even say his name. And now he's back in your life, sleeping in hospital chairs and looking at you like you hung the damn moon."
My throat tightened. "I hurt him. Six years ago, his father threatened me. He said if I didn't leave Hayes, he'd make sure Hayes lost his draft eligibility. Everything Hayes had worked for, his dream would be crushed by his family."
Payton went completely still.
"So I left," I continued, the words starting to pour out. "I said terrible things to make him hate me. I signed their NDA."
"But—" I paused, my voice dropping lower. "He knows now."
Payton's expression changed. "What?"
"When he left yesterday, he went to investigate." I closed my eyes. "Everything his father did. Maybe he knows it all."
The room was quiet for a long moment.
"Isn't that good?" Payton finally said. "The truth is out. You don't have to—"
"No." I shook my head, feeling like something was pressing on my chest. "You don't understand. He knows I sacrificed six years to protect him. He knows I signed that agreement, said those things, bore all the misunderstanding alone—" My voice caught. "And the way he looks at me now, it's like—"
"Like what?"
"Like I owe him something." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that wasn't right. "No, not owe. It's—" I struggled for the words. "It's guilt. He feels guilty about the decision I made six years ago. He's even secretly funding my studio now to make up for it."
Payton let out a low whistle. "So now you're both feeling guilty for each other?"
I didn't answer.
"Sienna." She leaned forward. "Listen to me. You spent six years protecting him. Now that he knows the truth, what does he want?"
"He said—" I paused. "He told me to stop pushing him away."
"Then he's right."
"But he doesn't understand." Frustration surged up. "His family won't let us be together. If he really goes against them—"
"That's his choice." Payton cut me off. "Sienna, do you hear what you're saying? He most likely already knows the truth. He's already made his choice. And you're still trying to decide for him what he should do."
The words hit like a slap.
"I'm not—"
"You are." Payton's voice was gentle but firm. "I understand. For six years you've been used to putting him first. But things are different now. He's not the boy who needed you to sacrifice yourself to protect him. He's a grown man who knows the truth and is capable of making his own choices."
"But what if his choice destroys him?"
"That's still his choice." Payton squeezed my hand. "And honestly? I don't think what you're really afraid of is that he'll be destroyed. What you're afraid of is—how to face him after laying everything bare."
I froze.
"For six years, 'protecting him' was the only connection you allowed yourself to keep." Payton continued. "That was your way of loving him. But now he doesn't need that kind of protection, and you don't know what to do."
My vision blurred. Because she was right. Completely right.
"He's here every day now," Payton said softly. "Not because he feels he owes you something. It's because he cares about you. The real you, not the martyr who sacrificed for him, but the stubborn woman lying in this hospital bed who pushed herself to collapse."
"I don't know how to—" My voice broke. "I don't know how to do this."
"Then start by accepting his protection." Payton said. "Start by admitting you need him too. Not as someone you need to save, but as your—" She paused. "As someone you want."
I didn't answer. But tears slid down anyway.
Payton handed me a tissue, then pulled out a magazine from her bag. "You don't need to figure everything out right now. But Sienna? Stop running. The only question now is—are you ready to face him? Not as his protector, but as someone equally vulnerable, someone who equally needs to be loved?"