I head to Mapleville for the weekend to spend time with Adam and make sure everything is still okay, or at least as okay as it can be right now. We’ve been keeping in contact regularly over text and video chat when he’s up for it, but nothing beats being able to give him a real hug.
Dr. Collins is chatting with my parents when I walk into his hospital room. “Hello, Aurora.” She smiles. “I was just updating your parents on Adam’s treatment.”
“How’s it going?” I walk over to him and kiss the top of his head, and, wrapping my arm around his shoulders, I sit on the edge of his bed.
“Pretty good, I guess,” he grumbles. “Dr. Collins says the meds are working, so that’s cool.”
I smile. “Very cool.” I fight the urge to jump up and dance because this is the good news I’ve been hoping for since his cancer came back.
Dr. Collins checks Adam’s chart before saying goodbye to us. I watch her walk away, and my pulse spikes when she turns her head at the doorway, her eyes meeting mine for no more than a few seconds before she disappears down the hall. I work to shake the unsettled feeling in my stomach after she’s gone. This is getting ridiculous. Being so focused on the fae and the people I care about being in danger makes everyone a suspect. Anyone could be fae at this point, but I can’t let myself obsess over that when I’m here to support my family. This isn’t about the fae; it’s about Adam and his recovery.
Starbucks is a necessary pit stop on my way to the Westbrook Hotel Monday morning. I grab coffee for myself and Marisa. She’s been nothing but kind to me since my placement started, so I like to bring her little treats every week to express my thanks.
“Where’d you get that dress? You look amazing,” she says after I hand her a coffee.
I smile, glancing down at the knee-length, navy dress I’m wearing. “Thanks. Honestly, I can’t remember. A thrift store, maybe? I needed business attire for this placement and didn’t have a lot to spend, so I went hunting.”
“You hit the jackpot. Teach me your ways. I’m getting tired of the same variation of pantsuits every day.” She laughs and takes a sip of her coffee.
“For sure.” We exchange numbers so we can set up a day to go shopping together before I glance at the time and cringe. It’s a few minutes after nine. “I’d better get upstairs.”
“Have a good one, and thanks for the coffee.”
I muster a smile. “I’ll try my best.”
I’m almost halfway to the office when the elevator stops and a man and woman in business wear step on. After the door slides shut, the woman looks over at me, tossing her long, dark red hair over her shoulder. “I cannot believe Tristan let you live,” she seethes.
I should ignore her, but my lips move before I can press them together. “I can’t believe he puts up with people as ignorant as you. Welcome to the human world. Where humans live.”
Her lips twist into a cruel smile in the same moment the man pulls the emergency stop, halting the elevator.
Shit.
My free hand curls into a fist when they corner me, and my pulse skyrockets, fear raging through me as I assess the situation. I knew working here would have some hazards, but I was hoping an altercation like this wasn’t going to happen. I suppose I should’ve known better.
The man runs a hand through his black hair and flicks a glance at the woman. “I’m dying to taste her. You know nervous energy is my favorite, but ladies first.”
My mouth goes dry. This is not happening.
The woman laughs. “She’s not so mouthy now.” She steps toward me, the tips of her high heels almost touching mine.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I growl. I’m about two seconds away from throwing my coffee in her face.
She rolls her eyes. “Well, now she’s annoying.” She shoves me hard, narrowing her eyes at me. “What the hell makes you so special?”
I grit my teeth, my shoulder blades throbbing from being pinned against the wall. “What’s it to you? God, don’t tell me you’re jealous?” If I’m being harassed in an elevator because this chick has the hots for Tristan, I swear to—
The woman grabs my face, digging her fingers into my skin. “Say another word, and I’ll steal every living emotion you’ve got.”
My head starts spinning, the woman’s voice echoing around me. This bitch is feeding on me, and I can’t move a muscle to do anything about it.
“Easy there,” the man says. “If Tristan is keeping her around, I doubt he’ll take too kindly to you killing her.”
Dying in an elevator isn’t something I had planned for today.
“Whatever,” she snaps, finally backing off. She slams her fist against the emergency stop again, making the elevator continue its ascent, and I stand there frozen until they get off a couple of floors later without another word. When the door slides shut, I let out a breath and tip my head back against the wall. I spend the rest of the ride trying to shake off the odd, forced calmness in my muscles.
Arriving at the twentieth floor, I step off the elevator and freeze when I see Max sitting behind the reception desk.
He glances up as I approach and smirks. “Morning, blondie. Is that coffee for me?”
“Not a chance. What are you doing out here? Boss man got you working the phones today?”
His eyes narrow. “Boss man? I’m sure he’d love you calling him that.”
Shaking my head, I blow out a breath as I turn away and step toward the office doors. I drop my things at my temporary spot and make my way to Tristan’s office. I knock a few times before letting myself in.
Tristan is sitting behind his desk having an animated conversation with someone on his phone. I take a seat on the couch while I drink my coffee and wait for him to finish. I tap my fingers against the side of my cup and stare at the unlit fireplace, debating whether I should tell him what happened on my way up here. I’m quick to decide against it, noting the dark look on his face. I try not to eavesdrop, but the tone of his voice is sharp and agitated. The Tristan I’m used to is the image of self-control, so hearing him this way is unsettling. His hair looks as if he’s run his fingers through it about ten times too many, and his tie is pulled away from his collar.
Tristan is sitting across the room, but I feel him everywhere. How could I have forgotten what that was like? That constant presence . . . it’s not all that unpleasant anymore, which makes my head spin.
I glance away when he catches me watching him.
He joins me once he’s off the phone and sits on the couch across from me. “Good morning,” he says in his normal, smooth voice.
“Morning.” I look over at him and bite my lip.
“What is that?” he asks, a sharpness latching onto his tone. It makes my pulse jump.
My forehead creases in confusion. “What?”