I suck in a sharp breath and wince. “How long have you been awake?”
“Oh, long enough,” he murmurs, a slight curve shaping his lips.
I laugh sheepishly. “Great.” As I look around the room, the events from the past twenty-four hours come back in a painful rush. I rake my fingers through the mess of curls on my head and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I should get ready and head to the hospital with my parents.”
“Okay.”
Tristan Westbrook is crawling out of my bed—where he slept beside me last night. I’ve imagined this moment, and it didn’t include having to go to a hospital let alone downstairs to see my parents.
He kisses my cheek on his way out of the room.
I use this opportunity to change into a pair of dark jeans and a loose T-shirt. I’m sitting at the end of my bed to pull on some socks when Tristan knocks on my door. I tell him to come in and force a small smile when he closes the door behind him.
“You should head back to the city,” I say, standing and grabbing my phone from the table beside my bed. “I’m sure you want to check in at the office and see how the rest of last night went.”
“I don’t need to check in. I’m fine right here.”
“Tristan,” I say, looking at him. “I don’t know how long I’m going to stay here. I’m not going to ask you to hang around for me. I haven’t forgotten everything you have to deal with right now. You were here for me last night. Now you need to be there for your people.”
He sighs. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”
I nod. “Go home. Deal with the light fae. No one else needs to die. Work with them and figure out a way to coexist.”
“All right,” he concedes.
I walk toward him. “Thank you,” I whisper, “for everything you’ve done for me.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. “If anything happens, you call me.”
“I will,” I promise.
We walk downstairs together, and he says goodbye to my parents. They stay in the kitchen while I walk Tristan to the door.
He smiles and pulls me into his arms. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. His fingers splay across my cheek, and he rests his forehead against mine. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”
The rush of tears that gathers in my eyes doesn’t surprise me at this point. “I’m trying,” I force out in a hoarse voice.
His lips press against mine in a whisper of a kiss. It’s slow and tender and unlike anything I’d expect from Tristan. He smiles at me once more before he walks outside and heads for his car. My cheeks are warm when I close the door, flushed from the mixture of emotions that accompany kissing Tristan.
Mom and Dad are drinking coffee at the kitchen table when I walk into the room.
“Morning,” I say as I pour myself a cup.
“Morning, honey,” Mom says. “Tristan didn’t want to stay for breakfast?”
I shake my head. “He had to get back to the office.”
“He seems like a decent man,” Dad says.
I peer at him over my mug. “Yeah, I guess.” Where is he planning on taking this conversation?
“He also appears to care about you a great deal.”
I shrug. “He’s . . . it’s complicated.”
Mom chuckles, but it sounds nowhere near her normal, carefree laugh. “All the best things are, Aurora.”
I’m not sure that’s true, but I keep that to myself. “We should go over to the hospital,” I say.
“Visiting hours don’t start for almost an hour,” Dad says.
“I want to be there when they do. Adam is probably scared to be alone in that place. We need to be there for him.” Being stuck at school while he’s been fighting through treatments has been difficult. Now that I’m here, I want to be with him as much as I can. If I can bring him any amount of comfort, I’ll do whatever it takes.
Mom and Dad exchange glances and both nod.
“All right,” Mom says. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll head over.”
My hands are shaking by the time we pull into the visitor parking lot at the hospital. I don’t know how I’m going to face Adam if he’s awake. The three of us ride to the pediatric level in silence. Mom’s hands are clasped in front of her, while Dad has one arm around her and the other shoved in his pocket. They look as out of place here as I do.
I let the two of them lead the way to Adam’s room. I know where it is from stopping by last night, but I can’t be the first one to walk in, so I slowly trail behind them.
Dr. Collins is sitting in the chair beside his bed. She looks up when the three of us walk in, and stands, offering a smile. Mom, Dad, and I all stand in the doorway. I think we’re all a little hesitant to approach Adam, which makes my chest ache.
“Good morning,” she says in a pleasant voice, turning her attention to me. “Would you mind sitting with Adam so I can talk to your parents?”
I glance over at Mom and Dad, catching their subtle nods. “Sure,” I say. After a short moment of hesitation, I walk over and sit where the doctor was when we came in.
“Hey, Roar,” Adam says, waving at my parents as they leave the room with Dr. Collins.
When I look at him, my throat burns. He doesn’t look all that sick right now. His eyes are still the same bright blue they’ve always been, and his hair still falls in messy brown curls around his face. His cheeks even have some color they didn’t last night. “Hey, buddy. How are you doing?”
He sighs. “Every time I try to sleep, some nurse or doctor comes in.” His eyes flick around the room before he shrugs. “At least I’m not in any more pain.”
“You were in pain?” I ask. “When?”
He stretches his legs out, sighing. “Yesterday and last night when I woke up.”
“The doctors gave you medication to take it away?”
He scratches his head. “I don’t think he was a doctor.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“He was wearing a suit. He didn’t look like a doctor, and he didn’t give me any medicine.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“He sat with me for a couple of hours early in the morning before the nurse came to check on me. At least, I think it was the morning. I was pretty out of it. I remember there was so much pain, and then there wasn’t. It was like he absorbed it.”
My breath catches, and before he can say more, Mom, Dad, and Dr. Collins walk in. There are fresh tears on Mom’s face, but she forces a smile.
Dr. Collins leaves the room after saying goodbye to Adam, promising she’ll get someone to send a snack later on if he’s feeling up to it.
I glance between where Adam lies, attached to machines, and where my parents stand at the end of his bed. No one has said what the doctor and my parents talked about, but if my Mom’s reaction walking back into the room is any indication, things aren’t looking good.
“Roar, please don’t look so scared,” Adam says in a small voice.
I turn to him and force a smile despite the wetness gathering in my eyes. “Sorry, buddy.” The last thing I want is for Adam to worry about me; I’m the one who needs to worry about him.