Page 148 of Priest

Guilt came hot and fast. “This is because of me.”

“No,” Lila said immediately, sharper than I expected. “This is because the hospital cares more about liability than loyalty.”

“It can be both,” Evan said, then looked at me and softened. “And still none of it is your fault.”

Priest had gone very still.

It took me a second to recognize the look on his face. It was the same expression he wore when he was mentally rearranging a room before touching a single piece of furniture.

Problem. Obstacle. Solution.

I saw the idea hit him a full second before he spoke.

“Come back to Bay of Saints,” he said.

Lila blinked.

Evan stared at him.

I closed my eyes. “Priest.”

“What?” he asked, already defensive because some part of him knew exactly what was wrong with the sentence he had just dropped into the room. “You three should be where we can keep eyes on you. You, the baby, Lila and Evan. After what happened, I’m not arguing this.”

“That is not the same thing as having a job,” I said, opening my eyes again. “Or a life.”

“You’d have a life.”

“In another city,” I shot back. “With no work lined up. No housing lined up. No plan beyond your need to keep everyone in one place where you can hover over them.”

His mouth tightened. “I don’t hover.”

Evan made a tiny choking sound that might have been a laugh if he’d had stronger self-preservation instincts.

I shifted carefully, already feeling my patience start to fray. “We already had this conversation. You can’t decide people should move and expect the rest of it to sort itself out because you want it to.”

“I’m not saying because I want it to.”

“Yes, you are.”

His eyes flashed. “I’m saying it because Joker got to you here. Because Lena is dead. Because Lila and Evan may not have jobs much longer. I’m trying to make sure none of you are left exposed.”

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

“No,” he said. “But it fixes distance.”

The room went quiet after that, because underneath all my irritation was the uncomfortable truth that he wasn’t wrong about the danger. He was just frustratingly wrong about the way solutions worked.

Lila sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. “There are no jobs there.”

Priest looked at her, then at Evan, then at me.

And I knew. I knew the second the idea landed because his whole face changed. Not into softness. Into certainty. That terrifying, immovable kind of certainty men like him got right before they did something outrageous and called it practical.

“Bay of Saints needs better medical access on the Fallen Harbor side,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “Priest.”

“The hospital’s underfunded,” he continued, speaking over me now because apparently once he had a thought, it became a public event. “Overcrowded too.”