He smiles. “It’s going to be okay. If I can fight cancer, I’ll fight this too.”
I close my eyes against the tears. His optimism is painful, but I can’t bring myself to say anything that might diminish it. He deserves it. Hell, he deserves so much more than this shitty hand he’s been dealt. “Okay,” I say in a hoarse voice. “Okay.”
Mom, Dad, and I head home for dinner after promising Adam we’d come back in the morning. I don’t think my parents can handle sitting in a room with their sick son when there’s nothing they can do for him. I want badly to stay with him, but it turns out, I’m no stronger than they are. If I continue to sit in that hospital room, I’m going to burst into tears in front of Adam, and that won’t help.
Mom and Dad both seem pretty out of it after we get to the house—understandably so—which is why I cook dinner. Knowing how much they love it, I make garlic bread and penne in a rosé sauce. We sit around the table, but we’re all picking at our plates.
Dad breaks the silence, saying, “Your mom and I understand that you’ll need to get back to school soon—”
“I’m not going anywhere until he’s better,” I cut in, trying to keep my tone gentle. My parents are just as concerned about Adam as I am. I don’t want to make it harder on them.
“Aurora, we don’t want your education to suffer because of this, and neither does Adam. You’ve accomplished so much, honey, and you’re almost there.”
The food in my mouth suddenly tastes sour. I have to force myself to swallow it. “Education isn’t always the most important thing. Especially when Adam is sick. I’ve made my decision.” The two biggest factors that typically trigger my anxiety are attacking simultaneously, forcing me to choose between my sick brother and my education. My degree has been my life for the past three years, but my family takes priority over it. I’ll figure it out.
Mom sighs. “Okay.”
After dinner, Dad offers to clean the kitchen, so I retreat upstairs and stand in the shower far longer than necessary. I’m drying myself off when I notice my phone going off on my bed. I rush over and answer it before it goes to voicemail.
“Hey.”
“When the hell were you going to tell me he got worse?” Allison asks. “I would’ve gone with you. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast. I found out last night while I was at the gala.” I explain how I got home as I pull a comb through my hair.
“Yeah, Tristan told me all of that. Do you want me to come there? I can be at your place in a few hours.”
“No, it’s okay. I appreciate you wanting to be here for me, but I’m going to stick around for a while.”
“Okay. Do you need me to talk to your professors? I can let them know what’s going on if you want.”
The idea of missing lectures makes my stomach queasy, but I say, “would you mind? That’d save me from emailing them. I’m sure they’ll understand. I have all of my placement hours done plus extra, so that won’t be a problem.”
“Of course. Consider it done.”
“Thank you, and—oh, shit! With everything . . . I forgot to call Tristan. Have there been any more attacks on the dark fae?”
“Not that I know of. I think Tristan got off his high horse and planned a meeting with Jules.”
“That’s good. Let me know if anything happens, will you?”
“Sure,” she murmurs, “and let me know what happens on your end, okay?”
“I will.”
“You know I love you, Aurora. I’m here for whatever you need. Always.”
“I know, and I love you. Thank you.”
I end the call and let out a long breath. I sit on the end of my bed and fidget with my phone. Not knowing how the following days are going to go is killing me. My skin itches, and my nerves are jumpy. My mind is racing with so many what-if scenarios, I can’t think straight.
I crawl under my sheets and try to relax. Tristan’s absence is almost tangible. As I gaze at the empty spot beside me, my chest aches. That’s new. I roll around to face the other way so I’m not staring at the blank space and close my eyes.
I drift off, grateful for the darkness pulling me under and away from reality. At least when I’m asleep, I can pretend everything is fine.
A scene materializes around me, and it takes a minute for me to realize I’m dreaming. I blink a few times, focusing on the fireplace in front of me. I’m in Tristan’s bedroom.
I stand, turning to glance around the room. “You can’t invade my dream and leave me here alone,” I call out.
Tristan enters the room out of nowhere. “I wanted to give you a safe space,” he says, approaching me at a comfortable pace. “I didn’t intend to make you spend time with me. I know you told me not to do this, but I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“It’s okay.” I glance at him. “I wish you were here,” I blurt.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing the hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “How are things there?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not why I brought you here. We don’t need to talk about that.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about what I’m dealing with.”
“Then we won’t,” he says. “We can talk about whatever you want, or we don’t have to talk at all.”
“So, you brought me here to—?”
“To hopefully offer you some comfort. I spoke to Allison after she talked to you. I know what you’re dealing with, and I want nothing more than to be there with you, so this is what I’m doing.”
I reach out and take his hand in mine. “Thank you. You continue to surprise me.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Is that a good thing?” he asks.
“Some days it really is,” I say.
We sit on the loveseat in front of the fireplace with my back pressed against his front and his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Adam told me,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” He leans down, tracing his lips along my jaw.
“I know you went back to the hospital after we left,” I say.
“Why do you think that?” he asks, tracing slow circles on the back of my hand.
“Because I remember what it felt like when you healed me. The pain was there, and then it wasn’t. That’s what Adam told me, and he said the man who made him feel better was wearing a suit. You didn’t want to go back to the hospital in my dad’s sweatpants?”
“Ahh,” he murmurs, refusing to confirm my suspicion.
“Why didn’t you tell me you went back?” I push.
“You didn’t need to know, Rory.”
“Right. God forbid I think positively of you.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t do it for you,” he says in a soft tone.
I smile. “No, of course not.” I tip my head back and whisper, “Thank you.”
He kisses the spot right below my ear. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
I press my lips together, debating whether I should go through with what I’m about to say. “I saw your dream,” I blurt. “I mean, I was in it, like you’re in mine now. Except you didn’t know I was there.”