“Just because we’re friendly,” I say quietly, my voice low enough that Evelyn doesn’t hear it, “doesn’t mean I don’t see the way you look at my sister.”
His expression doesn’t change.
Not really.
“Stay away from her.”
There’s a beat.
Then he smiles.
Not mocking.
Not dismissive.
Just… calm.
And then he turns, continuing down the hall with Evelyn beside him like I didn’t just say anything at all.
I watch them go for a second longer than I should.
Then I turn back to the door and push it open.
The room is quiet when we step inside.
Too quiet.
The machines are still doing their job, steady, rhythmic, the only thing breaking through the silence, and for a second my brain doesn’t process what I’m looking at.
Then it does.
Elijah is on the bed.
Curled around her.
His body wrapped around hers like he hasn’t moved in hours, like he’s been holding her like that the entire time, his face buried against her, his hand still resting protectively over her stomach.
Even from here, I can see it.
The tear tracks down his face.
Still wet in places. Not wiped away.
Zach swears softly beside me.
I don’t say anything.
Because I don’t have anything to say.
I didn’t think I’d ever see him like that.
Not like this.
Not… broken.
Not stripped down to something that looks more like a man who almost lost everything than the one who tore someone apart hours ago without hesitation.
Something shifts in my chest.
