Chapter 153
Diana's POV
"I've always..." I struggled to put it into words. "Work made sense. Justice made sense. People—people are complicated."
"Yeah." Something in his voice softened. "They are."
"Maybe..." I fought to stay conscious. "Maybe I've been using the work to avoid the complicated parts."
"Maybe." He was quiet for a moment. "But maybe, when you get out of here, you could try letting some of those complicated parts in. See what happens."
I looked at him. Really looked. At the exhaustion in his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the way he sat like he was ready to leap up the second I needed something.
My heart rate kicked up. The monitor chirped.
A nurse poked her head in, frowned at the numbers. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," I managed. "Just... tired."
She adjusted something on my IV. "Then sleep. Your body needs it."
I didn't want to sleep. Wanted to keep talking to Jack, figure out what he'd almost said. But my eyes were closing despite me.
"Will you..." The question came out small. "Will you stay?"
"I'm not going anywhere," he said immediately.
The certainty in his voice wrapped around me like a blanket. I let my eyes close.
The last thing I heard before darkness took me was the quiet rustle of papers—Jack settling in, keeping watch.
Maybe having someone in my corner wasn't the worst thing in the world.
---
When I surfaced again, the light had changed. Softer. Evening, maybe.
Jack was still there. Typing on his laptop, the glow from the screen highlighting the angles of his face.
I watched him for a moment. The furrow between his brows when he concentrated. The way he absently rubbed his jaw when he was thinking.
He glanced over, caught me staring.
"Hey." He closed the laptop immediately. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck." The words came easier this time. My throat was less raw.
"Technically, it was an SUV."
I almost laughed. Almost. "How long was I out?"
"About four hours." He checked his watch. "It's just past seven. Lena and Rowan are in the waiting area. They wanted to see you, if you're up for it."
I nodded. Regretted the movement immediately when my head spun.
"I'll get them." Jack stood, paused. "But if you get tired, just say the word and I'll kick them out."
"Even Mr. Reynolds?"
"Even Mr. Reynolds." He said it so seriously that this time I did laugh. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it for the way his expression lightened.
He returned five minutes later with Lena and Rowan. Lena's eyes were red-rimmed, a white bandage visible above her left eyebrow. She looked like she'd aged five years in twenty-four hours.
"Diana." Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry. I should never have—this is my fault—"
"Stop." I cut her off. "This is Marcus Grant's fault. Not yours."
"But—"
"Lena." I held her gaze. "You gave me a chance to do something right. To make up for Katya. That matters to me."
Her throat worked. She nodded, unable to speak.
Rowan stepped forward, his usual commanding presence tempered by something almost gentle. "Thank you for protecting her. All medical expenses are covered. Whatever you need for recovery."
I started to protest—I didn't do it for money—but Jack spoke first.
"Don't argue with her about this. She's stubborn."
Lena's gaze flicked between us. Something shifted in her expression. Recognition, maybe. Or understanding.
"We won't keep you," she said quietly. "But... take all the time you need. The firm will be waiting when you're ready."
She kept me company and took care of me most of the day. By evening, I felt terrible watching her tend to me when she was still recovering from her own injuries, so I gently pushed her to go home and get some proper rest. She squeezed my hand once before leaving.
The room felt bigger without them. Quieter.
"They care about you," Jack said.
"I know." I shifted slightly, testing my range of motion. Pain flared. "It's still strange. Having people who..."
"Who what?"
"Who show up." I looked at him. "Like you did."
Visiting hours ended at nine. A nurse came to remind Jack at eight-forty-five.
He stood, gathering his laptop and jacket. My chest tightened inexplicably.
He noticed. Of course he did.
At the door, he paused. Turned back.
"I'll be here tomorrow," he said. "Early."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." He held my gaze. "I care about you, Diana. Not as a colleague. Not as a friend. I care about you."
My heart monitor went haywire.
The nurse materialized, glaring at Jack. "Mr. Harrison—"
"I'm leaving, I'm leaving." He held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes never left mine. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
After he left, I lay in the dark, listening to the machines beep.
Jack cared about me. Not as a colleague. Not as a friend.
I'd spent so long building walls. Keeping people at arm's length because everyone I'd ever cared about had left or been taken away.
But Jack... Jack had shown up. Had stayed. Had looked at me like I mattered.
Maybe that was worth the risk.
When the night nurse came in to adjust my meds, I asked, "Will I be able to sit up tomorrow?"
She smiled. "If your recovery continues like this? Absolutely."
"Good." I closed my eyes, but I was smiling too. "I want to look a little less pathetic when someone visits."
"Sounds like good motivation to heal," she said warmly.
As I drifted toward sleep, Jack's last words echoed in my mind.
I'll see you tomorrow.
For the first time in years, I was looking forward to tomorrow.