Which meant paperwork and patience.
Neither of which I had much of.
“It happened on our turf,” I said.“That makes it our responsibility.”
Dad was quiet for a beat.Then, “You’re taking this personal.”
I kept my voice even.“It is personal.Someone got hurt.”
Another pause.Then, calmer, “I’ve got Mac and Brinks heading your way.”
“Good.”
“You don’t need to stay,” he added.
“I know.”
“But you’re going to.”
I didn’t answer that.
“Cole,” Dad said.“Don’t let this turn into something reckless.”
“I won’t.”
That part was true.
We hung up.I slipped my phone back into my pocket and turned toward the bed again.
Star hadn’t moved.Her hair was a mess against the pillow, bruising dark against pale skin.She looked smaller like this.
I didn’t touch her.
I wanted to.But wanting didn’t matter.Guarding did.
I sat back down and kept watch.
The door opened quietly.
Mac came in first, carrying a basket.Brinks followed, already smirking.
“You look like shit,” Brinks whispered.
“Morning to you too.”
Mac set the basket down and looked at Star, her expression softening.“She okay?”
“She slept.Woke up for a bit,” I said.“That’s progress.”
Star stirred then, eyes barely cracking open.“You’re all whispering.”
Mac smiled.“Welcome back, kid.”
I stood automatically, stepping closer to the bed without thinking.“Hey.”
Her gaze found me.Recognition flickered there.
“You’re still here,” she murmured.
