Relief floods me. "I reached Dice. He's on his way. Twenty minutes." I open one of the water bottles. "Drink this."
He takes the bottle with shaking hands, sipping slowly. "Good work."
I remove the first aid kit from my bag and open it, pleased to find it reasonably well-stocked. While James drinks, I change his bandage, cleaning around the wound as best I can. The stitches are holding, but the area is angry and red—the beginning signs of infection.
"I got you a shirt," I tell him, showing him the blue Pine Haven Fishing tee. "It's not great, but it's better than a bloody prison uniform."
"Thanks." His voice is weaker than before, concerning me.
I help him change, trying to maintain some semblance of professional detachment as I ease the clean shirt over his tattooed torso. It's not easy. Even injured and exhausted, there's something magnetic about him. The extensive tattoos covering his arms and chest tell stories I find myself wanting to hear.
I push those thoughts away. This isn't the time or place for... whatever this feeling is.
"Dice is coming," I say, focusing on what matters. "We just need to hold on a little longer."
James nods, leaning his head back against the tree. "Did anyone in the store recognize you?"
"I don't think so. The owner seemed suspicious, but I don't think he connected me to the prison."
"Good." His eyes close again. "You should go, Rebecca."
I stare at him. "What?"
"When Dice gets here. You should go home, pretend none of this happened. You're not in any system yet, and Miller won’t probably say anything. Cops don’t like confessing to losing fights. You can go back to your life."
“I'm not abandoning you."
"It's not abandoning. It's saving yourself. I'm a convicted felon on the run. Walsh's men are hunting me. This only ends badly."
"I made my choice when I left the infirmary with you," I say firmly. "Besides, you need medical care that your brother can't provide."
He opens his eyes, staring at me with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don't.
"Why?" he asks softly. "Why risk everything for a stranger? For a criminal?"
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself since the moment I decided to help him escape. The logical answer involves my medical oath, my duty to preserve life. But the truth goes deeper, touches on something more.
"I told you about my father," I say instead. The words still feel strange on my tongue. Speaking about him, acknowledging his existence to someone else. "He died because the prison system saw him as disposable. Just another inmate. Not worth saving."
James watches me, silent, waiting.
"I became a nurse because I believe everyone deserves care. Everyone deserves a chance. Even—" I almost say 'even criminals,' but catch myself. "Especially those society has written off."
"Your father," James asks, breathing ragged. "What was he in for?"
"Armed robbery," I admit quietly. "He was desperate. Wanted to help my mother. She had cancer, and he made a bad choice."
"Like father, like daughter," he murmurs. "Both helping the people no one else will."
Chapter 5 - Convict
"Like father, like daughter," I murmur, watching her face closely. "Both helping the people no one else will."
Her eyes, warm brown and remarkably steady despite everything, hold mine.
"I never thought of it that way," she admits.
The pain in my side has settled into a constant throb, more manageable now that I'm sitting still. The clean bandage and fresh shirt help, making me feel almost human again. But the blood loss has left me light-headed, detached from reality in a way that makes honesty easier than it should be.
