Page 83 of Deacon

“They put both of us on administrative leave while they review everything,” I said. “Which means probably, yes.”

Guilt crossed Blue’s face instantly. “This is because of me.”

“No.” The word came sharper than I intended. “This is because the hospital cares more about liability than loyalty.”

“It can be both,” Evan said before his voice softened. “And still none of it is your fault.”

Priest had gone very still. It took me a moment to recognize the expression, the same focus he wore when he was already solving a problem nobody had asked him to solve. His gaze moved between Blue, Evan, and me before certainty settled over his face.

“Come back to Bay of Saints.”

I blinked. Evan stared at him, while Blue closed her eyes briefly. “Priest.”

“What?” His shoulders squared. “You should all be where we can keep eyes on you. You, the baby, Lila, Evan.” His gaze flicked to Ink on Evan’s name. Ink’s expression barely changed, while Evan suddenly found the baby far more interesting than anyone else in the room. Priest turned back to Blue. “After what happened, I’m not arguing this.”

“That is not the same thing as having a job,” Blue said. “Or a life.”

“You’d have a life.”

“In another city with no work or housing lined up and no plan beyond keeping everyone close enough for you to hover.”

His mouth tightened. “I don’t hover.”

The noise Evan made beside me suggested self-preservation had officially left the room.

Blue adjusted the baby against her chest, fatigue sharpening her voice. “We already had this conversation. You can’t decide I should move and expect the rest to sort itself out because you want us where you can see us.”

“This isn’t because I want it.” Priest’s eyes flashed. “Joker got to you here. Lena is dead. Lila and Evan may lose their jobs. I’m trying to make sure none of you are left exposed.”

“Bay of Saints doesn’t magically fix employment. Or housing.”

“No.” His gaze stayed on hers. “But it fixes distance.”

The room quieted because underneath all his overbearing delivery sat an uncomfortable truth. He wasn’t wrong about the danger. He was simply infuriatingly wrong about how normal people arrived at solutions.

I crossed my arms. “There are no jobs there.”

Priest looked at me, then Evan, then Blue.

And I knew the instant the idea arrived.

His expression shifted into that terrifying certainty men like him seemed to acquire right before doing something outrageous and calling it practical. “Bay of Saints needs better medical access on the Fallen Harbor side.”

Blue narrowed her eyes. “Priest.”

“The hospital’s underfunded. Overcrowded too.”

“That does not mean...”

“It means the area needs a freestanding ER.”

Silence fell hard enough that Little Jax’s sleepy snuffle sounded enormous.

Evan blinked first. “A what?”

“A freestanding emergency department,” Priest said, as if suggesting a new grocery store. “On our side of town. Fallen Harbor needs access to emergency care without everyone driving across county lines when something goes wrong.”

Blue stared at him with the exhausted disbelief of a woman whose baby’s father had apparently decided zoning laws were a personal challenge. “You cannot build an ER because you are annoyed at geography.”