Chapter 157
Lena's POV
Diana looked better.
Not good—her left arm was still in a sling, bruises still mottled her cheekbone, and she moved gingerly when she shifted against the pillows—but her eyes were clearer, and the ventilator was gone.
"You survived the arraignment," she said as I walked in. "How bad was it?"
"Marcus pled not guilty. Vivian tried to attack him in open court and got dragged out screaming."
Diana's eyebrows shot up. "Jesus."
"The prosecutor thinks we have enough to keep him in custody through trial. The RICO charges are solid." I pulled a chair closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck." She smiled faintly. "Which, technically, I did."
Jack appeared in the doorway, balancing two coffee cups and a paper bag. "Got your tea," he said to Diana, crossing to set it on her bedside table. "And those crackers you mentioned."
"You didn't have to—"
"I was already downstairs." He adjusted her pillows without asking, his movements gentle and automatic. "You should eat something before your next round of meds."
Diana flushed slightly but didn't protest.
I watched the exchange with quiet interest. The way Jack's hand lingered on the blanket near hers. The way Diana's gaze followed him when he moved to the window. The careful distance they maintained—just inches apart, close enough to touch but not quite touching.
Jack caught my look and straightened, suddenly formal. "I'll give you two some space. Lena, good to see you."
"You too, Jack."
He hesitated at the door, glancing back at Diana. "I'll be in the waiting room if you need anything."
"I know," Diana said softly.
After he left, I raised an eyebrow. "He's been here every day, hasn't he?"
"Pretty much." Diana reached for the tea, wincing as the movement pulled at her shoulder. "He keeps saying it's his fault I got hurt. That he should've been the one driving."
"That's not why he's here."
She looked at me sharply. "Lena—"
"He cares about you." I kept my voice matter-of-fact. "And unless I'm completely misreading the situation, you care about him too."
Diana set the tea down carefully. "It's complicated."
"Why?"
"Because I—" She exhaled, frustration creeping into her tone. "My mother spent twenty years waiting for a man who promised he'd leave his wife. He strung her along with nice words and empty promises, and when she finally called him out, he disappeared. Left her with nothing."
I stayed quiet, letting her work through it.
"She told me growing up: men like that don't change. They'll tell you what you want to hear, and the minute it's inconvenient, they'll walk away." Diana's voice tightened. "I watched her break herself trying to believe him. I'm not doing that."
"Jack isn't your mother's ex," I said gently.
"I know that. Rationally, I know." She stared at her hands. "But there's this voice in my head that says—what if he gets bored? What if this is just guilt, or gratitude, or some misplaced hero complex? What if I let myself believe it's real, and then he leaves?"
"What if you don't give him the chance, and you lose something that is real?"
Diana's jaw worked. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
I thought of Rowan's hand brushing my hair back. The look in his eyes before he pulled away.
"Maybe I am," I admitted.
She studied me for a long moment. "You're scared too."
"Terrified," I said quietly. "But I'm starting to think... maybe some risks are worth taking."
Diana's expression softened. She glanced toward the door where Jack had disappeared. "He stayed all night after my surgery. Fell asleep in that god-awful chair and woke up with a crick in his neck. When I told him to go home and rest, he just said, 'I'm good here.'"
"Sounds like someone who's not going anywhere."
"Yeah," she murmured. "It does."
A nurse poked her head in. "Ms. Clarke, time for your PT session."
Diana groaned. "Already?"
"Afraid so." The nurse smiled sympathetically. "I'll give you five minutes."
When we were alone again, Diana met my eyes. "Thanks. For coming. For—everything."
"You took a car for me," I said simply. "Least I can do is push you toward happiness."
She laughed—a small, genuine sound. "Deal."
As I left, I saw Jack waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his phone. He looked up when I approached.
"She's about to start PT," I said.
He nodded, already moving toward her room.
"Jack."
He paused.
"Don't give up on her," I said. "She's worth the patience."
His expression eased into something hopeful. "I know."
I believed him.
---
Rowan was waiting by the elevator, scrolling through his phone. When he saw me, he pocketed it immediately.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yeah."
We rode down in silence. It should have been awkward—this new, fragile thing between us, unnamed and uncertain. But instead, it felt... steady.
Like maybe, just maybe, we were both starting to figure out what we actually wanted.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't running from the answer.