Ethan turns fast, his shoulders squaring. His stance widens slightly, protective in a way that doesn’t require permission.
“Who are you?” Ethan demands.
Kiren’s gaze moves to Ethan, assessing. He doesn’t look intimidated. He looks attentive, like he’s taking Ethan seriously.
“Kiren,” he replies, his voice calm. “I’m a friend of Rowan’s.”
Ethan’s expression darkens. “A friend?”
Kiren holds his gaze without posturing. “Yes.”
Ethan steps closer to the foot of the bed, blocking part of Kiren’s line of sight to me. “Funny. I know most of her friends. I’ve never seen you.”
Kiren’s eyes return to mine for a brief moment, then back to Ethan. “We met recently.”
Ethan’s jaw works. “And you just showed up in the ER because you heard she wrecked her car?”
Kiren doesn’t blink. “That’s correct.”
Ethan lets out a short, humorless sound. “Who called you?”
“No one,” Kiren answers. “I heard.”
Ethan’s posture tightens further, as if every answer adds fuel instead of relief. “You heard. From where? From who?”
I reposition on the gurney, discomfort tugging at my shoulder, and force my voice into the space before Ethan escalates into a full argument.
“Ethan,” I urge, keeping my tone firm. “It’s okay.”
His head snaps toward me. “Ro, no it’s not. You don’t even know what happened yet.”
“I know,” I reply. “But I’m not doing this right now.”
Ethan’s eyes search my face, torn between obeying me and protecting me from everyone. His gaze darts to Kiren again, distrust etched into every line of his expression.
Kiren remains still, his hands visible at his sides, and his posture relaxed but ready. His eyes return to me, and I see concern there.
I inhale carefully, then look at Ethan. “Please.”
Ethan’s nostrils flare. His shoulders remain tense, but he nods once, reluctant. “I’m not leaving the area.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I answer.
Ethan takes a half-step back, then points a finger at Kiren without taking his eyes off him. “I’ll be right outside.”
Kiren inclines his head, acknowledging the warning without responding.
Ethan moves to the curtain, pauses, then looks back at me, his eyes tight with worry. “Don’t let him stress you out.”
“I’ll be okay,” I promise.
Ethan pushes the curtain aside and steps out, but I can still feel him there, like a guard dog pressed close to the door.
The silence between Kiren and me stretches. It’s not awkward but charged.
I look at him, then force my voice to stay calm. “Why are you here?”
Kiren steps closer, stopping at a respectable distance from the bed. His eyes move over my face, to the fresh sutures, the faint swelling at my cheek, and the bruising rising beneath my collar. His jaw clenches. His hands remain at his sides, but I see the tension in his fingers.
