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“Hannah, I’m here,” she managed. “Can you hear me?”
Hannah nodded, her eyes wide with fear, but with the tubes in her mouth she couldn’t speak.
Lillian fought the urge to touch her sister. If she did, the energy she’d transferred would return to Lillian. “You’re gonna be okay. Thank God you’re awake. I was beginning to worry. I’ll get the nurse.”
“No,” Tristan said. “Stay with Hannah.” He pulled out a chair, frowning, and motioned Lillian to sit. “You look like you should be the one in the hospital bed.”
She wanted to say something smart, but her legs were about to collapse from under her, so she murmured her thanks and sat.
Tristan left to fetch the nurse, while Lillian’s gaze returned to Hannah’s. She rubbed her temples.Think, Lillian, think.Thank goodness Hannah couldn’t speak yet. If she could, there’s no telling what would come out of her mouth. And Lillian wasn’t in any shape to deal with one of Tristan’s interrogations.
As if he sensed her thoughts, Tristan returned with the nurse, his gaze going straight to Lillian’s. She could feel his eyes on her, dissecting…analyzing. She angled her face toward Hannah, trying to ignore the fire truck that had taken up residence in her skull. It blasted its alarm, sending tiny trembles of exhaustion through her body.
She clasped her hands and attempted to slow her racing heart. Two years ago, Lillian had made the difficult decision to fake her death, change her identity, and limit communication with her family to protect them. The plan had worked out well, considering she’d remained hidden from Kinetica, and her family had been left in peace.
She flicked a glance at Tristan, who was still staring at her. She couldn’t fall apart now. No matter if Tristan thought her strange. No matter if she collapsed in this spot.
Maryanne checked the machine and took Hannah’s vitals. When she finished, she shook her head, mumbling under her breath. “It’s incredible she’s awake. She’s made a remarkable turn for the better. I’ll be right back.” She left in a hurry.
Hannah’s gaze latched onto Lillian’s. She brought one hand up and wrote in the air.
“You want to write?” Lillian asked. “Are you sure?”
Hannah gave a short nod.
Lillian fumbled in her purse and came up with a pen and a small notebook, which she opened and laid on the bed next to Hannah. “How are you feeling?” She offered Hannah the pen.
Like I was hit by a truck.Hannah scratched the pen against the paper. Who’s this?
Lillian glanced in Tristan’s direction. She cleared her throat. “It’s Tristan King, can you believe it? I met him earlier tonight when he was visiting the patient next door. I asked him to stop in since I know how much you admire him.”
Did Tristan suspect she’d lied about Hannah being an admirer?
If he did, he didn’t show it. He smiled at Hannah—a genuine smile, all warm and sincere and concerned. Lillian’s breath caught in her throat. Would he ever smile at her that way? All she noticed whenever she was brave or frustrated enough to look his way was a calculated gleam. As if he suspected she was keeping secrets and was determined to uncover the reason.
“Nice to meet you, Hannah,” he said.
Hannah pointed at the tubes in her mouth at the same time Dr. Beyton came through the doorway, Maryanne close on his heels.
“Well, I’ll be,” the doctor said. “This is a very good sign.” He gestured at Hannah. “Looks like our patient has turned a corner.”
The doctor’s gaze landed on Tristan, his eyes widening, before moving to Lillian. “Are you all right?”
No. She was not all right. She hadn’t been all right since she’d gotten the call from her dad, and she’d made the panicked decision to come to Cleveland. The room wavered before her eyes like some kind of drug-induced mirage. Fatigue hit her hard, and she put her head in her hands and struggled to catch a breath.
“She’s exhausted.” Tristan commanded Dr. Beyton’s attention. His hand settled on her shoulder, solid and protective. Warmth traveled from her shoulder to her heart, giving her the strength to remain standing. “Is there somewhere she can lie down?”
“Of course.” Dr. Beyton cast her a clinical stare. “The chair over in the corner reclines.” He pointed to a blue armchair. “I’ll get the nurse to help you.”
“I’m okay. It’s just lack of sleep,” she heard herself mumble from some distant universe.As well as a massive transfer of energy.“Take care of Hannah.”
Tristan leaned toward her. “Come lie down.”
Lillian sniffed the rich scent of soap mixed with cologne that was Tristan. The smell dazzled her senses, opening a longing in her heart she thought she’d sealed long ago. “But you…Hannah…”
“Will be fine. You, I’m not so sure. Your friend doesn’t need you collapsing on her.” His tone softened. “Relax, Zoey. Let me help you.”
“I can manage…”
