“If you go back, I go back,” Michael signed fiercely. “You’re not going to be alone.”

The four of them sat in silence for several seconds. Then Diesel slid out of the booth and held out his hand to Joshua. “The bill’s paid. Are you ready?”

Joshua gripped Diesel’s hand like his life depended on it. “No,” he whispered.

Michael had put on a stoically brave face during the meal, but any pretense was gone. He appeared more miserable and terrified than any kid should ever be.

“We need to go,” Dani signed softly. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with before we get upset, okay?”

He nodded once and slid out of the booth, waiting until Dani had done the same before replying. “Okay. And even if it goes wrong, thank you for trying.”

Dani’s throat closed. She was glad she could sign, because there was no way she’d be able to speak at that moment. “You’re welcome. You can call me anytime. I mean that. Now, let’s go.”

The mood walking back to the clinic was considerably more grim than it had been on the way to the diner.

Dani had a bad feeling about this. If everything had gone well, Kendra Cullen would have just told her so. Instead, her text telling Dani to bring the kids back had been curt and to the point. Too curt, and that wasn’t like Kenny at all. They’d known each other for years. That message had read like they were strangers.

And maybe I’m just imagining things.

She glanced up at Diesel, only to find his eyes on her. They shared a long look that spoke volumes.

He was worried, too. And if there was one thing she knew about Diesel Kennedy, it was that his instincts were top-notch. She’d be dead if they weren’t. He’d had a feeling she was in danger all those months ago and had been waiting behind the clinic, watching over her. He’d been right, because she’d been stabbed that day.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He smiled down at her, making her heart stutter. “For what?”

“Saving my life a year and a half ago. I don’t remember if I ever thanked you.”

“You did.” His expression became wryly self-deprecating. “The day I visited you after your surgery. The day you told me to find someone else. Very politely, of course.”

“The day I told you that it wasn’t you, it was me,” she said quietly, but firmly.

He shrugged his shoulder and she bit back a sigh. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d wished she could lean against that shoulder. Diesel was kindness and strength.

And he did need to find someone else.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” he said as they reached the clinic door and pulled it open. “After you.”