Page 50 of Deacon

“I’m fine.”

Her expression barely changed. “No, you’re not.”

She adjusted the IV and reached for the oxygen mask. “Put this on for a minute.”

I opened my mouth.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Now.”

I took it and held it over my face with enough resentment to make Ledger look away before I saw him laugh. The nurse watched the monitor until the numbers began settling, then turned toward the two men.

“You either keep him calm, or you leave. He’s recovering. This is not the time for excitement.”

Nomad raised a hand. “Understood.”

Ledger nodded. “We got it.”

I would have laughed if breathing didn’t already feel like a group project.

The nurse waited until she was satisfied, then pointed at me. “You. Rest. That’s your job.”

She walked out, leaving behind the particular silence only a nurse could create after reminding a room full of grown men that none of us were in charge.

I let my head sink into the pillow and swallowed against the rawness in my throat. “Hate this place.”

Ledger released a breath through his nose. “Stop nearly dyin’ in dramatic ways and maybe they’ll let you leave.”

My eyes stayed on the ceiling. My body still hurt, but beneath all of it lived the older ache waking hadn’t softened.

“I loved her.”

The room changed.

Nomad settled back into the chair without a joke, and Ledger’s expression lost its amusement. These men knew parts of my past, pieces I had handed over across years of war, road, and club life. They knew Lila existed. Saying this still felt different.

“I had loved her as long as I can remember,” I continued, quieter now. “Longer than I had any right to.” My eyes closed for a second. “Still do.”

Ledger studied me. “Wakin’ up and seein’ her…”

“God.” A broken breath slipped out of me. “It was like a prayer bein’ answered.”

The truth sat there, too raw to take back.

“But man, she’s pissed. And she should be.” I stared at nothing because there was no answer waiting on the ceiling either. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

Ledger and Nomad exchanged one of those silent conversations brothers developed after enough years together.

Then Ledger asked, “She yours?”

I turned my head toward him.

“Yes.” No hesitation existed in me for that one. “Always was.”

He nodded as though the answer settled something obvious. “Then you chase.”

Nomad’s mouth twitched, but he stayed quiet.