Diesel Kennedy was a protector. She’d do her best to help him because the world needed men like him. Children needed to know that there were still people to protect them, especially kids whose parents had abdicated that responsibility.

“Do you have any kind of parental permission to have Michael treated?” she asked.

He shook his head. “He’s not on my team. Only Joshua is.”

She sighed. “I can’t treat him, then, not until CPS tells me to.”

“His head’s bleeding, Dani,” Diesel said quietly. “Can you at least bandage him up even if you can’t do stitches?”

“Of course. I’ll ready a room for him,” she said, standing. “And as soon as CPS arrives, I can stitch him up.”

Diesel stood as well. “He ran six miles in thirty minutes with a head wound,” he offered. “I don’t know if that has worsened his injury or not.”

Dani’s eyes grew wide. “Wow. The kid is fast. Let’s make sure he doesn’t run from us.”

His lips quirked again. “From us. Sounds like a plan.”

She needed to correct him. Needed to tell him that nothing had changed for her. That there was no “us.” It wouldn’t be a lie. She wanted him as much as she always had. But that there could never be a “them” remained equally true.

She needed to say the words, but they would not come. “Right,” she murmured, then waited for him to leave first. But he remained where he stood, silently challenging her to move past him. She should have told him to go, but those words wouldn’t come, either.

She squeezed by him, unable to keep from drawing one last breath to fill her head with his scent.

And watched him do the same.

God. She opened the door, let the cooler, non-Diesel-scented air of the waiting room fill her lungs. “Jenny, can you prep a room for Michael, please? I’ll need a suture kit.” She moved closer to her nurse and murmured, “I need to call Maddie Shafer at CPS and my cousin Adam. We need them here for the exam.”

Jenny nodded. “Will do.”

Dani turned to Michael to tell him what would happen next, but froze once again, her mouth dropping open in shock. Diesel was signing to Michael. Diesel. And he was doing pretty well, too.

She didn’t know he could sign. Where had he learned? When had he learned?

Why had he learned?

“You can sign?” she blurted.

He turned to her, his eyes more compelling than they’d ever been before. He nodded, holding her gaze for a moment that seemed to stretch on and on.

“I thought I might need it in the future,” he said quietly. “To talk to Greg.” He didn’t even blink, his message coming across loud and clear.

Game on.