Movement passed in the hallway.
Blue scrubs.
Dark hair.
For one second, Destiny appeared beyond the blinds, carrying a chart against her chest. She stopped when she saw me awake.
The whole world narrowed to her face.
She looked exhausted. Pale. Beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with softness and everything to do with survival. Mandy’s diamonds glinted in her ears. Her hair was pulled back. Her eyes hit mine through the glass and went wide.
Georgia’s hand tightened around mine.
Destiny saw it.
Of course she did.
Her gaze dropped to our joined hands.
To Georgia’s ring.
Then back to my face.
The hallway, the machines, the woman beside me, the bullet wounds, the years, all of it stretched thin between us.
I wanted to lift my hand.
I didn’t.
Georgia was holding it.
Destiny’s mouth trembled.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
She gave one tiny nod.
A professional nod.
A stranger’s nod.
The kind of nod a nurse gave a patient’s family when there were too many things she was not allowed to say.
Then she walked away.
I closed my eyes.
Georgia’s thumb brushed over my knuckles again.
“You saw her,” she said.
I did not answer fast enough.
Georgia inhaled through the hurt.
But she did not let go.
