Montana Falls (Red Diamonds #5)

Chapter Thirty

T he hospital room was eerily quiet, save for the soft beep of the heart monitor beside Logan’s bed and the steady hum of the IV drip attached to his arm. The pale light of early evening filtered in through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows on the walls, making the sterile white of the room feel like a cold tomb.

It was a tomb, almost. Just not for us.

I sat by Logan’s side, watching him sleep from the comfort of his hospital bed. His chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm—an innocent, peaceful rhythm that felt so out of place after everything we’d been through and just how much my brain was racing with thoughts I could barely understand.

Logan looked just like he was sleeping on a regular day, if you didn’t look at both of his legs in casts, and the bandages on other little burns along his thighs.

I looked normal. In Price’s T-shirt, hanging low enough, it was a dress. A pair of Misha’s socks that almost reached my knees, and had pictures of Pikachu all over them. I had a Glock on the table; Malone’s Glock. A coffee on the way from Kody, as well as some take out he deemed not disgusting.

All of them were outside the door, whispering and explaining and doing whatever I ought to have been doing.

All of them were being normal. Or at least they were pretending.

It was just Misha who sat with me awake. Silent. Crying. Curled up on the couch opposite the bed with his arms around his knees and his blonde locks unruly.

I looked down at my hands, my fingers twisting together, nails digging into my palms. The hospital gown I’d been given after a doctor had checked me over had felt scratchy and too thin against my skin. It was supposed to make me feel better; I think—like I was being taken care of, tended to. But it didn’t. Nothing felt better. Nothing felt right. So all of my boys had dispersed to find me things I needed to make me feel better.

All of them had run around, dealing with the fallout of my mansion burning, people dying, and the body that was in my club.

The body that Miguel had offered to take and keep until her children decided if they wanted a funeral or if they wanted to just get rid of her.

I’d pay to have her buried. I’d pay to have her in a grave her children could visit.

It would kill me, but I would do it if they needed it.

I would do anything they needed.

“I thought it would feel different.” Misha said suddenly, his voice startling me a bit.

“What, papi ?”

He coughed, clearing his throat as he slowly and weakly got to his feet, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I thought winning this thing would feel different.”

“We didn’t win.” I corrected him, swallowing down the lump in my throat and the tears that threatened to spill again. “Your mama is… was…”

“She hurt you.” He stepped toward me, trailing his fingertips over my cheeks. “ My mom would never have done any of this stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you know how Elaina is your mom?”

I flinched. “Yes.”

“But she’s also not your mom, right? She’s just… just a thing. A technicality. Luciana was your real mom.” I let him talk without interrupting, wanting him to finish his point before I replied. “Retta was my mom. I love… loved her. I always will.” He wiped away the tears on my cheeks, then kissed the tip of my nose. “Cassie deserved to die, though. And I won’t ever feel bad for killing her. I just wanted you to know that because I feel… I feel fucked up.” He said, using swearwords that were unlike him.

I understood what he was trying to tell me. Elaina Gomez had made me. Birthed me. Contributed to some of my DNA. But she wasn’t my mom. She wasn’t my family. She was just a blip in a small part of my life that I would never think of again. She was nothing. Nobody. A corpse that I had created and still relished in making weeks after her death.

“You can hold your mama in your heart forever.” I sniffled. “Retta can stay there as the woman you knew, and I do not care. I do not… feel angry or hurt by this. She was your mama, and you are allowed to grieve her or feel pain about her being gone.”

His head cocked. “And you won’t be mad about it?”

“I would never be mad at you. How could I when… when all you’ve done is help me?” I reached out, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him tight. “You saved my life, time and time again. You did something that I would have spent forever hating myself for. I could never be mad at you.”

He held me tight enough I felt like I wasn’t going to fall apart as he whispered, “I just want to ask something else. Before I clean myself up and pretend everything is okay.”

“Sure.” I mumbled into his shirt.

“Do you care that we… that Linc and I… that our mom was…”

“That you are O’Malley’s?” I guessed as I pulled back to look at him, and he nodded. “No. I don’t.”

“How?” He said. “Won’t you see her when you look at us? Or see John?”

“I look at you and see the man who brought me clothes and made me feel safe when I was covered in my daddy’s blood and scared. I see the man who offered me his friendship and love when I desperately needed it.” My words were nothing but true. “I see the man who was tortured for me and loves me. There is nothing in this world that could make me hate you.”

He seemed to believe me. Or at least he believed me enough that with another hug and a kiss on top of my head, he felt comfortable enough to leave, and go find his brother for a conversation the two needed to have.

I hoped it helped. Healed. Did something to set them on the right path.

Anything to just make things better.

The door to the hospital suite was closed for less than a minute before it was roughly barged open, a snarling face greeting me as I flinched once more, for an entirely different reason.

“You’ve done some ridiculous things in your life, Diamond, but this takes the fucking cake.” Beau stepped into the room, glaring at me with the anger he usually reserved for the dead he created.

He looked the same as always on the outside. His dark hair slicked back. His face shaved clean. A black suit that clung to his frame and was no doubt expensive, and a pair of shiny shoes. But there was something different about him. Something in the way he stood, just inside the door, like he didn’t quite know what to do next. His eyes that I’d stole, usually so sharp and piercing, softened for the briefest moment when they found me sitting by Logan’s side.

My throat tightened; my chest heavy with the weight of everything I wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in my throat, lodged there like jagged pieces of glass. I swallowed, my eyes burning, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to say to him.

He’d spent days thinking I was dead, and I’d let him. All I’d done was ask Miguel to make sure he didn’t do something stupid like kill himself out of guilt.

“ Tío …” The word slipped out before I could stop it, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Beau’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked toward Logan, who was still asleep, then back to me. The silence stretched between us, heavy and thick with all the things we weren’t saying.

For a second, I thought he might turn around and leave. I wouldn’t have blamed him. I had hurt him in a way that could never be undone, by making him grieve for me.

I’d let him burn half my city to dust to avenge me.

But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in front of me. His presence—familiar, powerful, just like my daddy’s—was like a tidal wave crashing down, and I felt the weight of it wash over me. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face the pain in his eyes, the anger, the hurt. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck.

Beau knelt down in front of me, and when he did, my heart broke a little more. He looked up at me, his face close, and I saw it then—the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes. Anger. Sadness. Relief. And something else. Something I couldn’t quite name, but it cut deep for one entirely insane reason.

He was crying. Tears were sliding down his cheeks at a violent speed, and there was no stopping them.

He never cried. Not really.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words barely audible, my voice cracking as I finally looked at him. “I’m so sorry I lied and pretended and I… I thought it would help sell the story. I thought your grief would be so real that I… I could convince her that I was gone, and she would not think it was all a lie.” With a sniffle, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I even asked Rika to shoot me, not Kody. Because I wanted Kody’s real reaction and for him to be present, to help sell things.”

Beau’s jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he might shout, or worse, turn that coldness I’d seen him wield against enemies onto me. But he didn’t. He just closed his eyes, letting out a long breath, like he’d been holding it in for days. When he opened them again, the storm I’d expected wasn’t there.

“I thought I lost you,” he said, his voice low, thick with emotion. “I thought I lost you for good and it fucking killed me. Do you understand that? I was dead, too.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was going to die, too. That’s how much I love you – need you.”

“I’m sorry.” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say.

He stared at me with the fiercest sort of love that I had always seen in my daddy’s eyes, and it was enough to make me snort because it was such a silly thought to have right now.

“You look like my daddy.” I whispered. “All mad and sad and loving. You seem like you want to murder for me being bad but that you would also kill the world for me. I just… I just like to see it.”

He snorted too. “I know I’m not Ford. I won’t ever be Ford.” He breathed. “But I… I am your dad. Your uncle. Your family. I’ll be here for you always, in whatever role you want me. And I know we haven’t really talked about everything. We’ve been so busy and there were just other things going on and I… I just wanted you to understand that I don’t regret you – I don’t hate anything about you, even if the way you were made was… wasn’t nice.”

“I know.” I breathed.

He carried on. “I loved you the second I met you, and every moment since. And I know I gave you to Ford, but that was nothing to do with you. Okay? That was all me – all shit I had to deal with myself. But I never once blamed you for anything. And I don’t think you can even comprehend how much I am grateful that I didn’t lose you, too. I can’t live without you Sapphire. Not now, not ever.”

“Do you see her when you look at me?” My eyes dropped to the floor, tears falling freely as I asked the one question I’d wondered since I’d found out the truth. “Do I remind you of her?”

“Never.” He replied. “I see Lucia, and I see Ford, and I see you. All of it is stuff I love and have always loved.” He forced a watery grin onto his face. “Sometimes I even see me too. Only when you’re being violent – that’s when you look like me the most.”

“Promise?”

He nodded. “You have never been like her, and you never will be. Regardless of what DNA you carry, you are my daughter. I love you and that is never going to be in question. The rest doesn’t matter to me the same way you just told Misha that it doesn’t matter who he is related to.”

I believed him. Even if it was hard. Or sad. Or whatever else my brain felt when I thought of my biological mother. The truth was, I trusted Beau. When he said he didn’t hold it against me – when he said he saw me and not the thing that made me – I trusted it to be true.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears spilling over, running down my cheeks, hot and painful. Beau’s fingers closed around mine, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes—those cold, rain storm eyes that reminded me of what I’d lost—softened just a fraction as he looked at me, the lines of his face etched with something close to exhaustion.

Sometimes I forgot he was still young. That he was only fourteen years older than me.

That he had been through just as much fucked up stuff as I had.

“I’m never going to replace my daddy.” The words were slow. “But I… I am glad to have you. It is not a thing of shame to me that you are my daddy, too. I’m proud to be your daughter – to be the girl you helped raise, even when you didn’t have to. And I remember everything you did for me, especially after mama died. I know how you looked out for me and made me heal just enough that the world wasn’t all dark and scary every day. So I’m sorry for this – for making you feel pain. But I promise I won’t do it again. I promise I won’t ever do anything to cause you more hurt than you’ve already had.”

Beau’s gaze held mine, and for a long, agonizing moment, neither of us spoke. The hospital room was quiet, the sound of Logan’s steady breathing the only thing grounding me in the present. Finally, Beau exhaled, his shoulders sagging just slightly. His thumb brushed over my knuckles and my collection of rings, a small, almost tender gesture that I clung to like a lifeline.

“I should be angry with you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I should be furious. But I’m just… I’m just glad you’re alive. All I care about is that you’re alive.”

I let out a sob, unable to hold it in any longer, and before I knew it, Beau pulled me into his arms. He held me tightly, his grip fierce, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear again. I buried my face against his chest, the familiar smell of whiskey and danger filling my senses as I cried into him. All the fear, the guilt, the exhaustion—it came crashing down all at once, and I let it.

Beau held me through it, his arms strong, unyielding. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt safe completely. Without a single niggling fear at the back of my mind that it was only temporary. Not because the fight was over – there were still dozens of things to be fixed, and healed, and done. But because the monsters in my life were dead. My family had been avenged.

And I had my daddy back. In a way. I had him with me and I would have him with for many more decades, and even though it would never stop the pain from those I’d lost, it did help.

It helped to know I was not alone. I was never going to be alone again, and I was safe.

When I finally pulled back, my eyes red and swollen from crying, Beau brushed a tear from my cheek. His face was still hard, still etched with pain, but there was something gentler in his eyes now that promised me he would be okay.

“You ever pull something like this again,” he muttered, his voice rough, “and I’ll kill you myself.”

A shaky laugh escaped me, and I wiped at my eyes, trying to compose myself. “I won’t,” I promised, the words barely audible.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he finally stood, his hand still resting on my shoulder. “Good,” he said simply. “Now I’m going to get a drink and let all those loser boyfriends of yours in here – I think Kody bought you food, and you’re looking a little skinny since I saw you last.”

The room settled into silence again, but it wasn’t the heavy, oppressive silence from before. This time, it was softer, more bearable. Logan shifted in his sleep beside me, his hand twitching slightly on the hospital bed.

Beau glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Logan’s a good kid,” he said quietly. “He did right by you in all this. So did the others.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion again. “He did. They all did.”

“Your dad made good choices when he picked them. Even if he didn’t know exactly what he was choosing them for. And I know he would be… he would be happy you had them. I’m happy you have them.” Beau stayed a moment longer, then squeezed my shoulder gently before stepping back. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Well, I’m going to find Rika and beat her first, but then I’ll be outside.” He paused a second, cheeks turning unnaturally red. “Do you know what flowers Ruby likes?”

My head cocked. “She mentioned liking sunflowers before because they remind her of her home – the ranch thing with horses and all that southern charm.”

“Sunflowers? Okay. Sure. Sunflowers – thanks.”

“How come? Did you make her mad again?”

“No.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I just… I… do you like her?”

My head cocked. “Yes. She is kind and funny, and she feels like a friend to me. I am glad to have met her and think I will enjoy having her in our family.”

“A friend? Shit. Yeah. She’s not far from your age, is she?” He wiped a hand over his face.

I didn’t have the mental energy to play games or pretend to think anything other than the truth, so I kept my words blunt.

“If you want to date Ruby, I would be happy for you. She is kind, like I said, and I see how she makes you happy sometimes when you think nobody looks at you. And no, she is not too young. Neither is she my age; she is almost seven years older.” I snorted. “There is like eight years between you and her and sure, if she was freshly eighteen, I would think that gap is too large for me not to be heavily side eyeing you. But she is a grown woman with a fully developed brain, and you are a grown man. If you want to be with her and be happy, then you do it.”

“I don’t want to date her.” He lied to my face, and I just glared at him. “Okay, fine. Maybe, sometimes, very occasionally… I like her that way. Just a bit.”

“You dove on her when that cabin blew up.” I said. “Like how Kody did for me, and my other men do, too.”

“I did.” He admitted.

“You killed for her. Bled for her. Push past your trauma for her… you can call it what you want, tío , but I see it for what it is, and I am happy about it.”

“Okay.” He didn’t lie again, and I appreciated it. “Alright then.”

I nodded again, watching as he walked to the door with the tiniest smirks on my face. But before he left, he paused, his hand resting on the handle.

“Sapphire,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I love you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but in the best possible way. I smiled, my heart aching with relief, and nodded. “Me too, Tío . I love you forever and even after that.”

And then he was gone, and I sat back against the pillows, my hand resting on Logan’s, and for the first time in a rather long time, I felt like I could breathe.

Just breathe. Nothing else.