GOD OF DEVOTION

10.

REMI

The site is bigger than I expected. Steel Enterprises is planning something massive here, and as I walk through the dusty, half-finished grounds, I can already picture what it’ll become—another flagship project for the company. I’m used to this kind of thing—overseeing developments, planning logistics, dealing with contractors. But having Ari here complicates everything.

She’s walking a few steps ahead, clipboard in hand, taking notes and occasionally snapping pictures with her phone. She looks focused and professional, but I notice the tension in her shoulders. I regret what I did to her, and I wish I could take it back. I told her I regretted everything during our last meeting, but I still feel the weight of that confession lingering in the air between us.

“Over here,” I say, guiding her toward the back of the site where the main foundation is being laid. “This is where the core structure will go.”

She glances at the area, scribbling something down on her clipboard. “It’s bigger than I thought,” she mutters. I can see the determination in her eyes, but I also notice the way she’s holding back, the same way I did when I pushed her away.

We move toward a section of the site where some of the ground is uneven. I glance at her heels and frown slightly. She’s always been a bit impractical when it comes to stuff like this.

“Watch your step here,” I warn, gesturing at the loose dirt. She nods, but just as she steps forward, I hear a sharp crack—a piece of debris giving way.

“Ari—”

It happens too fast. One second she’s walking, and the next, she’s tumbling forward, her ankle twisting awkwardly as she falls to the ground. I’m there in a flash, kneeling next to her before she can try to get up.

She winces, clutching her ankle, trying to play it off like it’s nothing, but I can tell she’s in pain.

“Don’t move,” I say firmly. “Let me check.”

“I’m fine,” she mutters, but there’s a slight tremor in her voice. She tries to stand, but her leg buckles beneath her, and I catch her before she falls again.

“Yeah, fine,” I say dryly. “You’re hurt.”

She glares at me, stubborn as always. “It’s just a twist.”

I shake my head, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her weight. “You need to get this checked out.”

“I can walk,” she insists, but I ignore her, shifting her weight onto me.

“Sure you can,” I reply, keeping my tone light but firm. “But we’re not taking chances.”

As we slowly make our way toward the car, her arm over my shoulder, I can’t help but think about how I wish I’d done things differently. I should’ve treated her better, recognized her feelings long before everything went wrong.

“You always have to be a hero, don’t you?” she mutters under her breath.

I smirk, glancing down at her. “You can thank me later.”

She doesn’t respond, but I can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It feels good to be this close to her again, even under these circumstances.

I sit in the stiff, uncomfortable hospital chair, watching as the doctor examines Ari’s ankle. She’s lying on the bed, her face set in a stubborn, annoyed expression. Typical Ari—always insisting she’s fine, even when she’s clearly not.

“She’ll need to stay off it for a couple of days,” the doctor says, glancing between us. “It’s a sprain, not a fracture, but any pressure will make it worse.”