Chapter 161

Chapter 161
Sienna's POV

The drive back to Silver Pine Valley passed in silence, broken only by the steady hum of the engine and the whisper of night wind against the windows. I leaned against the passenger seat, my eyes closed, though sleep remained elusive. My right hand found Hayes's, fingers intertwining desperately—as if his touch was the only thing anchoring me to reality.

Every time I tried to let my thoughts drift, fragments of the hospital room flooded back: my mother's trembling hands, the metal box, those faded photographs. The silver star necklace felt cool against my throat, a tangible reminder of everything that had just shifted between us.

Hayes drove with one hand on the wheel, the other never pulling away from mine.

I opened my eyes to find the tension in his jaw, the way his free hand gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white—he was fighting his own battle, absorbing my pain.

"Hayes..." My voice came out rougher than intended, scraped raw from crying.

"I'm here." The response was immediate, certain.

I turned to study his face in the dashboard's glow, seeing the careful control he maintained for my sake. "Don't leave me."

His eyes found mine briefly before returning to the road. "Never."

The simple word carried the weight of a vow. I closed my eyes again, feeling something loosen in my chest.

---

We pulled into the driveway of our Silver Pine Valley home, the familiar sight of warm windows and manicured landscaping a stark contrast to the sterile hospital corridors we'd just left behind. I moved mechanically as Hayes helped me from the car, my body going through the motions while my mind remained elsewhere.

The moment we stepped inside, Buddy bounded toward us, his tail wagging with characteristic enthusiasm. I managed to reach down and scratch behind his ears, but the smile I offered felt hollow, exhausting. After a few minutes, I let my hand fall away, and Buddy seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere. Instead of his usual playful demands for attention, he settled quietly beside the couch, watching me with intelligent brown eyes.

Hayes guided me to the living room with gentle pressure on my shoulders, then crouched in front of me so we were at eye level. His hands found mine, warm and steady.

"You need to relax," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Let me run you a bath. The hot water will help."

I shook my head automatically. "I'm fine. I don't need—I just want to sit for a while."

"Sienna." His hands tightened around mine, and I looked up to meet his gaze. "I know you're used to handling everything alone. But tonight, let me take care of you. Please. Just... satisfy my selfish need to do something for you."

The way he phrased it—not as my weakness, but as his need—cracked something open inside me. I found myself nodding before I could overthink it.

"Okay."

Relief flickered across his features. He rose, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'll get your things ready."

Twenty minutes later, he led me to our bathroom, where steam already fogged the mirror and the scent of lavender filled the air. Clean clothes waited on the counter, and he paused at the doorway.

"Don't stay in too long. Call if you need anything—I'll be right outside."

After he left, I sank into the hot water and finally allowed myself to breathe. The heat seeped into my muscles, loosening knots I hadn't realized had formed. But even as my body relaxed, my mind refused to quiet.

I opened my eyes and caught sight of myself in the steam-clouded mirror across the room. Red-rimmed eyes, pale cheeks, hair plastered to my skull—I looked as wrung out as I felt.

From outside the bathroom, I heard Buddy's soft whine and Hayes's gentle correction: "Quiet, boy. Don't disturb her." Despite everything, my mouth twitched upward. Even in my exhaustion, he was thinking of my peace.

The water had cooled by the time I finally stirred myself to get out. As I wrapped myself in the soft bathrobe Hayes had left for me, I caught my reflection again and whispered to the mirror, "Don't make him worry more than he already is."

---

When I emerged from the bedroom in my robe, hair damp and falling around my shoulders, I found the dining table set with care. Steam rose from a plate of perfectly prepared pasta, golden-roasted chicken breast cut into manageable pieces, and a colorful salad that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

Hayes stood beside the table, pulling out my chair the moment he saw me. "Sit. Eat while it's hot."

My throat tightened unexpectedly. "You made all this..."

"You need fuel," he said, settling the matter with characteristic directness. "And I was hungry too."

But I could see through his casual tone to the careful way he'd plated everything, the way he'd cut the chicken into small bites so I wouldn't have to struggle with it. He served me a generous portion of pasta, arranging the chicken pieces on my plate with the same precision he brought to everything he cared about.

I picked up my fork, took one bite, and immediately set it down again. "I'm sorry. I can't—I don't think I can eat right now."

"That's okay," Hayes said without missing a beat. "Just try a few bites. Whatever you can manage."

His lack of pressure, the gentle acceptance in his voice, made it easier to try again. I managed a few pieces of chicken and some salad, Hayes eating quietly beside me, never rushing or commenting on how little I consumed.

"Hayes," I said suddenly, looking up at him. "Am I... am I too much trouble?"

His fork clattered against his plate as he reached for my hand. "No. You're never trouble."

The certainty in his voice, the way he didn't even pause to consider the question, made my eyes burn with fresh tears.