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“Where is he? I should thank him.”
Hannah hesitated, looking down at her hands, her expression hard to read. “I don’t know. After he cured you, he was pretty sick. The nurses took him away. I figured to a hospital room for treatment. I didn’t question it at the time because I was so worried about you, and I thought he’d return when he was better. Dad finally went to see him, and…well…”
“What is it?” Hannah looked up, and Lillian understood she was trying to mask her worry and sympathy.
“He has a fiancée. I’m so sorry, Lillian.”
“Angelina.”
“Yes, that’s her name.”
“Is he…how is he?”
“Dad wasn’t able to see him, but Angelina said he’s fully recovered. The nurses said he came to see you the day he was released. Dad and I had left your side for a few minutes to get a bite to eat, so we never saw him. But he’s called the hospital every day since to get an update on your progress.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Hannah swallowed. “Once on the telephone. He was concerned for you, but he was…distant. I couldn’t get a good read. I’m sorry, Lillian. Angelina told Dad they’re planning a large wedding. I know you loved him.”
Lillian didn’t deny the claim—she never argued with Hannah about matters of emotion. Her sister was always right—it was her gift.
A yawning crater opened in her heart and filled with despair. Tristan had felt responsible for what had happened, so he saved her. And he’d checked on her because he was a good person who cared. But she’d rejected him in the worst possible way, and he’d believed her, which was why he’d turned to Angelina for comfort.
His heart belongs to me…always has, always will.
Angelina’s words were a taunting voice in her head. Lillian closed her eyes to block out her sister’s concerned expression, but she couldn’t shut down her thoughts.
“He’ll come back to me eventually, and when he does, I’d hate to see your little heart get broken.”
The phrase was like a death knell in Lillian’s mind. She blinked, and the tears she had been holding back spilled over and rolled down her cheeks—far too many tears to hide from her perceptive sister.
Hannah held her in her arms like Lillian was a baby, rocking back and forth. “It’ll be okay,” she soothed.
Did she blame Tristan for going back to Angelina? What other reaction should Lillian have expected?
Her lies had condemned her forever.
ChapterTwenty-five
The most surprising thing about being in a coma for more than a month and then in a rehabilitation center for another month while she recovered? Lillian had missed most of spring. Summer was in full glory by the time she was well enough to leave the hospital and return to her dad’s house.
She set aside the magazine she had been trying to read and got up from her bed, crossing to the window to open the yellow drapes and look out into the backyard. Her dad fiddled with the riding lawnmower under the bright summer sun. Some sixth sense made him look up at Lillian, and when he saw she was out of bed, he waved and beckoned for her to come down.
How amazing she no longer needed to glance over her shoulder in fear she would be snatched. According to the FBI, Kinetica had been disbanded and was no longer operating. Lillian had a hard time believing it was true, but she supposed if it weren’t she’d have been kidnapped from the hospital or her bedroom.
Lillian smiled and waved at her dad and closed the curtain. Incredible her dad had recovered completely from the trauma he’d suffered when Kinetica’s men had attacked him. Now she could be with her family, enjoying a normal day, free to interact out in the open. Free to be a daughter and a sister again.
So why did she feel an aching loss inside that nothing could relieve?
She slipped on a pair of jean shorts and tennis shoes and the first T-shirt she could find and went downstairs to find her sister, sniffing the air.
“Is that French toast I smell?” Unlike Lillian, Hannah knew her way around a stove.
“You guessed right…and scrambled eggs and hash browns. I wasn’t sure what you’d be up for.”
“It all sounds great to me as long as I don’t have to cook it.”
“How are you feeling?”
