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“I’ll do that.” Tristan hugged his mom, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was made his mom laugh and kiss him on the cheek.
Lillian didn’t bother telling Brenda she was not her son’s girl, and they wouldn’t have the opportunity to get to know one another better. She was leaving just as soon as she felt well enough to board an airplane.
Tristan must have guessed some of Lillian’s thoughts because a stubborn look flashed across his expressive face. “Do you think you can make it to the car?”
She sat up, and thankfully, the room stopped spinning. “I think so.”
He held out a hand, which she grasped, and he pulled her to her feet.
“I can manage on my own,” she said.
“I’m not taking any chances.” He must have collected her purse where she left it because he held it in one hand and curled his other around Lillian, guiding her toward the front door.
She should resist being this close to him. It would only make it harder when she had to leave. But her knees were weak, and her heart was racing, whether from the healing or being next to Tristan, Lillian wasn’t certain.
His mom followed them, and Tristan turned to hug her when they reached the door. “You seem so much better, Mom. I’ll have Nancy make an appointment with your doctor for an exam.”
His mom must have been used to Tristan making the decisions for her care because she didn’t argue. Instead, she patted Tristan’s arm and smiled. “When will I see you next?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll see if I can talk Zoey into coming with me.”
Before Lillian could object, Tristan whisked her out the door. “Bye, Mom.”
Tristan kept his thoughts to himself on the way home, but he glanced over at Lillian from time to time to make sure she was resting. She’d closed her eyes as soon as she’d strapped herself into the vehicle, and he witnessed once again how healing took a toll on her physically.
He stepped on the accelerator and pulled onto the highway. The sooner he could get Lillian to his home and in bed, the better. What she had done for his mom was nothing short of a miracle. What would the doctors say when they saw how improved she was? He could hardly believe it himself.
It started to rain, so he turned on the windshield wipers and flicked a glance at Lillian. Right now, he was more worried about her than his mom, which was unusual enough to make him question his own motives. How had she become so important to his personal happiness in such a short space of time?
Her thin arms were tucked into her lap, and her eyes were shut. She looked exhausted, and no wonder. She’d thrown up the meal he’d prepared last night. This morning, she’d only eaten a small portion of her breakfast.
It rained harder now, which matched his mood, and he strained to see through the wiper blades. He’d be damned if he’d let Lillian leave without a decent meal in her. He’d be damned if he’d let her leave without getting her to first acknowledge what was happening between them. The more he thought about it, he’d be damned if he’d let her leave him at all until she’d completely recovered.
Despite the driving rain, in no time at all they had pulled through the gate and into the long driveway and around the back of his house. He parked the car and watched her a moment, the slight up and down movement of her chest confirming she still breathed. He hated to wake Lillian, but she’d sleep better in bed.
“Zoey.” He shook her shoulder gently, careful to use her alias although he’d begun to think of her as Lillian the moment Brian had revealed her given name.
She opened her eyes and blinked. “Are we home already?”
Home.A thrill raced through him at the sound of the word on her tongue. He suspected she hadn’t even realized she’d used it to describe his house. “Yes. Here, let me help you.”
He came around to her side, but she’d unlocked her seatbelt and was stepping out of the car. She didn’t reject his offer of help, though—another clue to how hard the healing process was on her body. He tucked her into his side and guided her through the side door.
She let out a small shriek of surprise when he scooped her up into his arms once they were inside.
“You can’t keep picking me up every time you think I’m going to fall over.” She sounded winded.
He laughed and continued moving. “Is that what I was doing?”
“Yes, put me down. I’m not sick—I’m just tired.”
He ignored her. He wasn’t about to let her walk up the long staircase in her present condition. Not when she was obviously drained and he could easily take the burden from her fragile frame.
She stopped the protests after the first few steps, winding her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder as if she’d exhausted herself. Her hair smelled like a wild strawberry patch, and he had the crazy urge to never let her go. But all too soon they reached her bedroom.
He managed to twist the knob and kick the door open with her in his arms and place her on the bed. He lifted her foot and tugged on one of her shoes.
“What are you doing?”
