“Yes, as long as you take it slow. No sudden movements and if you get dizzy sit down immediately.”
I nod, trying to sound nonchalant. “Good. That means I can move back to my room.”
But the words stick in my throat.My room.The thought makes my chest tighten, a strange pressure blooming beneath my ribs. This isn’t my home. It was never meant to be. It isn’t mine—not the bed, not the windows, not the echoing hallways or the quiet hum of Lorenzo’s men outside every door.
And yet… somehow… it’s starting to feel like it is. And that is a dangerous thought and definitely a foolish one. One I can’t afford to entertain.
The truth hits me hard and sudden. I need to get back to Kansas City. As soon as humanly possible. Back to my life. Back to normalcy. Back to something that doesn’t involve gunmen, fever dreams, and a man whose touch makes my heartbeat riot against my ribs. If I stay here any longer, in this house that feels too warm and too safe, with him watching me like I’m the only thing in the world that makes sense to him… I might not leave at all.
That’s why I ask the question I know will hurt Lorenzo.
“Am I okay to travel? Like on a plane?”
Dr. Lars’ thick brows pull together. “I don’t see why not, but are you planning to go somewhere?”
I hesitate, my gaze flicking toward Lorenzo. He doesn’t move, but the shift in his jaw tells me he’s listening.
“I was just asking,” I murmur. “I wanted to know if I could.”
Dr. Lars hums, unconvinced, then makes a note on his clipboard. “You’d be fine, but I’d recommend waiting a few days, just to be safe.”
“Okay.” I pause. “And showers? Am I okay to shower on my own?”
He gives me a small smile. “Yes, Ms. Miller. Just keep the wound covered and avoid very hot water for now.”
I exhale a little too loudly, relief mingling with embarrassment. “Good. I’d really like to not smell like antiseptic for once.”
That earns the faintest chuckle from him.
“I imagine so.” He starts packing up his instruments, then gives me a look that’s part doctor, part fatherly warning. “You’ve been through a great deal. Don’t push yourself too soon. Rest is still your best medicine.”
I nod again, but my attention drifts to the doorway. Lorenzo hasn’t moved, though his eyes soften just a fraction when they meet mine. And my dang heart flutters.
As Dr. Lars leaves, he claps Lorenzo gently on the shoulder. “She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Lorenzo says quietly.
When the doctor is gone, the silence stretches between us again. He steps into the room, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
“You’re planning to leave,” he says. It’s not a question but a statement.
My heart skips. “I just asked about traveling.”
“People don’t ask about traveling unless they intend to go somewhere.”
I look away, fingers curling in the bedsheet. “I can’t stay here forever, Lorenzo.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then, softly but with steel beneath it he says, “Maybe not forever,cara.But you’re not leaving yet.”
He leaves after that, the soft click of the door echoing louder than it should.
For some reason, my eyes fill with tears. I blink hard, willing them away, but they come anyway—hot, stupid, and relentless. I don’t even know why. Because he’s acting distant again? Becauseone minute he’s soft, and the next he’s steel? Because I shouldn’t even be here in the first place?
He knows it.
I know it.
And yet, here I am. In his bed, wrapped in his silence, and drowning in feelings I don’t want to name.
