Page 92 of Priest

“But that’s the part I’m stuck on,” Nomad says calmly. “Why you’re talkin’ like there’s more there than that. Priest’s your ex-brother-in-law. He’s keepin’ you safe from Joker. That’s the lane. So why you driftin’ out of it?”

Her gaze flicks to me, quick and searching, waiting for me to step in. To smooth it over. To reassert whatever claim she’s trying to imply.

I don’t.

The silence stretches long enough for her smile to thin at the edges.

“He’s right,” I say finally, my voice flat with a weariness I feel down to the bone. “You’ve been doin’ that a lot lately. Steppin’ into my space like there’s somethin’ between us that isn’t there.” I hold her gaze. “I’m askin’ you straight now. Why?”

Her breath catches, sharp enough to be real. For a second, the armor slips, and what shows underneath looks less like confidence than frustration sharpened into need.

“We were in love once,” she says, quieter now, like she’s reminding me of something I’ve forgotten. “You don’t just erase that. I was yours once. That has to count for something.”

Something in me snaps, not loud and not explosive. Just final.

I step closer, enough that she has to look up at me instead of past me. “No. We dated. Then you fucked my brother behind my back because he offered you a patch and a future you wanted more. I walked away, because with that act, you no longer meant anything to me. The moment you fucked him, you became his Old Lady. That’s the truth of it.”

Her jaw tightens, color creeping up her neck.

“And what that means,” I continue, keeping my voice level, “is you’re part of my past. You’re a responsibility I took on because of your father. Cain kept me alive when I was a kid, helped keep me sane. That debt is a chain I wear. Don’t confuse it for closeness.”

She opens her mouth, eyes bright and ready to argue.

I keep going.

“I said I’d help you and that baby land on your feet. Money. A roof. Time. That’s it. That doesn’t buy access to my life. It doesn’t buy confusion. It damn sure doesn’t buy you a place where you don’t belong.”

The words settle heavy between us.

“Stop reachin’ for more,” I say quietly. “You’re only gonna hurt yourself.”

I turn before she can answer and catch Ghost still watching, head cocked in that unsettling way he has when the room becomes another screen only he can read. With a sigh, I nod once to Nomad and Ledger.

Nomad is already moving, Ledger right behind him.

We ride.

The hospital almost feels like a second home with the amount of time I’ve been spending here. Nomad and Ledger peel off toward Deacon’s wing while I follow the signs for OB, the fluorescent lights humming low overhead. The waiting room is nearly empty, late afternoon quiet with chairs lined against the wall and old magazines nobody has touched in months.

Blue sits near the window, coat folded beside her, both hands resting over her stomach like she’s holding herself together by habit alone. She looks up when she hears my boots, surprise flickering across her face before it softens into something steadier.

“You’re early,” she says.

“Didn’t want to risk bein’ late,” I reply, taking the seat beside her.

She studies me for a moment, then nods like that matters more than she wants to admit. She looks tired, carrying more than most people ever see, and every instinct in me wants to take the weight out of her hands even though I’m learning that wanting doesn’t give me permission.

“I heard Deacon is finally awake. He has a rough road ahead for recovery, knowing how stubborn he is, but recovery is ahead at least,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah, we’re all so fuckin’ relieved. I don’t know what I would have done if we had lost him. He means a lot to me,” I sigh as I rub my hand down my face. This is probably the most open and vulnerable I have ever been with her. “Bluebell, listen I…”

The nurse calls her name before I can finish.

Blue shrugs at me as she pushes herself up slowly. I stand with her, matching her pace without thinking about it, and for a brief second our shoulders brush. It’s small. Unintentional.

It still feels like something earned.

The appointment goes smoothly. Heartbeat strong. Measurements perfect. The doctor smiles, tells her everything looks exactly like it should.