Damian was waiting at the hospital's discharge doors himself the next morning, no driver, no security detail trailing him, just his own car parked crookedly at the curb like he'd rushed to get there before anyone else could offer.
"I could have arranged a car," Elena said, settling carefully into the passenger seat, her cast propped awkwardly against her lap.
"I know." He pulled away from the curb before she'd even finished buckling in with her good arm. "I wanted to do it myself."
They drove in easy quiet for a while, the city sliding by outside the window, and Elena found herself watching him instead of the road — the careful way he checked his mirrors more often than the drive required, the tension still sitting in his shoulders that hadn't fully released since the night on the emban
