Page 24 of Wrestling With Love

She turned her head slightly, wincing at the effort.

Lena was sitting beside her, awake, deep in conversation with a nurse. Her expression was tense, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. She was hurt too, but not as much.

Diamond tried to sit up.

That’s when she felt it—something warm, wet.

Blood.

Her blood.

Her arm was red, the wound open and slight blood oozing out of it, but the wound still throbbed, and she knew the bruises across her ribs weren’t just surface-deep.

The second a doctor approached, she forced the words out.

“I don’t have insurance.”

The nurse frowned, as if that was the least of her concerns. “You’re injured. You need—”

“I’ll be fine,” Diamond ground out, jaw tight.

Lena turned to her, eyes flashing. “Diamond, are you serious? You were bleeding all over the damn place—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Lena didn’t look convinced.

But Diamond didn’t care. She wasn’t about to rack up a bill she couldn’t pay, wasn’t about to let some hospital drain what little she had left.

Ignoring the sharp protests from her body, she pushed herself off the bed. The world tilted dangerously, her vision swimming, but she forced herself to move.

One step. Then another.

She barely made it out of the room before she nearly collided with a nurse carrying a tray of supplies.

Diamond immediately shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Relax,” the woman interrupted, voice kind but firm. “I won’t bill you.”

Diamond hesitated.

She didn’t trust favors. Didn’t trust kindness.

The nurse didn’t wait for permission. She just motioned for Diamond to follow her.

They slipped into a secluded waiting area, a quiet corner of the hospital away from the chaos of the ER. The elderly nurse gestured for Diamond to sit, setting the tray down beside her.

“You fighters are all the same," she muttered under her breath as she cleaned the wound on Diamond’s arm. "Too proud for your own good."

Diamond almost smirked, despite the pain. "That obvious?"

The nurse just shook her head, working quickly. "I’ve been patching up people like you for years. You all walk in half-dead, pretending you’re fine." She secured the bandage, then gave Diamond a knowing look. "Try not to get stabbed again."

No promises.

Diamond flexed her fingers, testing the tightness of the wrap, when movement on the other side of the waiting area caught her attention.

A white coat. Clipboard in hand.

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