Healing Kiss, page 6
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…”
Strong arms pulled her up and into his side. She clung to him to prevent herself from passing out. The room swung madly, like a thousand colorful horses spun on a possessed carousel. Candles burned behind her eyelids.
And then her mother was there.
“Lillian,” she said. “Listen to the man, sweetheart.”
Chapter Eight
“Mama? How did you get here? We all thought you were…”
“Dead? Oh, baby. I’m not dead, I just haven’t visited in a while.”
Her mother stood in the doorway, a bouquet of daises in her hand. Lillian gazed at the familiar pink rose wallpaper of her bedroom at her dad’s house. Her mother loved flowers. How had she gotten here? She felt the sheets to make sure they were real. The crisp white cotton creased under her fingertips.
Her mom had on her favorite turquoise dress, her dark hair straight and shiny and pulled into a bun. Her cheeks were pink, like she’d been out in her flower garden and had come inside to check on Lillian. Her lips tilted up in quiet delight.
Lillian pulled one hand from under the sheets to beckon her mother to her side. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mom. I’ve missed you. My head hurts. I think I overdid it.”
Her mother leaned over her bed and placed a cool hand on her forehead. She smelled like lemon verbena. “You’re not running a temperature.” She smoothed Lillian’s hair, brushing a stray piece from her cheek. “Listen closely, honey. I’ve something important to tell you.”
“Sure, Mom. What is it?” Her mother’s touch soothed the jackhammer pounding at her temple.
“You will not be able to run from Kinetica forever.”
Her breath caught in her lungs. “They will catch me?”
Cool fingers stroked her cheek in a soothing swirl. “They will steal your happiness if you let them. It’s not your job to cure everyone.”
Lillian frowned. “Hannah’s not everyone. Do you want me to let her die?”
Her mother’s eyes took on a faraway expression, as if she saw sights Lillian could not hope to understand. Then she shook her head, giving Lillian a soft smile. It radiated love and concern and motherly wisdom. “You’re merely an instrument, Lily. Whether Hannah lives or dies is not your decision.”
“What are you saying? This virus will kill her?” Lillian could not disguise the trembling fear in her own voice.
“No, honey. Your sister is strong. But death comes to us all eventually. You won’t be able to save the ones you love every time. I couldn’t.”
“But you sacrificed your life to warn me about Kinetica. You knew they’d kill you, but you managed to write me a letter. After you died, I found it tucked inside the secret compartment in your suitcase. That’s how I learned the car accident was a setup—that they’d murdered you and made it look like an accident. That they infected people with deadly viruses and made you try to heal them. That they were using your DNA to create super healers. If I hadn’t received your letter, they would have captured me, too, and who knows what they would have done to Hannah and Dad.”
“I did what a mother must do. But my fate does not have to be yours.” She bent, kissed Lillian’s forehead, and whispered. “Feel better, sweetheart.”
“No, wait.” She stretched her arms in the air, but her mother evaded them. “What should I do to save Hannah?”
“Follow your heart, my Lily.”
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, giving her a slight shake. “Zoey, Zoey, can you hear me? Wake up.”
Pain crashed into her skull, robbing her of breath. Lillian opened her eyes and squinted at Tristan’s face, trying to make sense of his wide pupils and the creased lines indenting his brow. A low moan tumbled from her lips. She was in the hospital, of course. She must have passed out after attempting to cure Hannah.
“Hannah…” She tried to rise, but Tristan held her down.
“Is off the ventilator and resting. No need to worry. The doctor thinks she is past the worst. The nursing staff is keeping a careful eye on her. There’s nothing you need to do or worry about. When’s the last time you had something to eat?” Tristan raised one eyebrow, demanding the truth.
Lillian wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. She’d had a snack on the airplane. But that had been many hours ago. She’d been so keyed up about her plans to go to Tristan’s home and her fear of Kinetica, she’d only eaten a bit of her grilled cheese sandwich.
“I had a small bite before I came to your party.”
Tristan turned to Maryanne, who’d entered the room. “Can we get a meal?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take care of it.” Maryanne smiled at Lillian, her manner confident and efficient. “The cafeteria’s closed this late in the evening but we keep meals in the fridge. How does breakfast sound?”
“Fine. Thank you.”
Maryanne left to get the food, leaving Tristan by Lillian’s recliner. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
Lillian sighed. No use arguing. He was right. “I know. It’s been difficult. Is Hannah truly okay?”
Tristan glanced toward Hannah’s bed. “Yes, she’s sound asleep. Honestly, I’m more concerned about you right now. You’re far too thin.”
“You sound like my…like Hannah’s dad. He thinks food solves all life’s problems.”
“He’s a smart man. You should listen to him.”
Lillian’s lips twitched. The thumping in her head faded to a dull ache. “If I ate what he wanted me to eat, I’d gain fifty pounds.”
Tristan found a chair and placed it next to her, gifting her with his unreadable smile and causing a strange excitement inside Lillian. She bit her lip, her smile fading. Why did a simple look from the man have her all jumpy inside?
“That wouldn’t be a bad outcome. Has this happened before?”
Lillian dropped her gaze to the blanket covering her. “Passing out? Not often.”
“But it has happened before. When?”
Lillian shrugged. “A year ago. Maybe less.”
Tristan lifted a finger and raised her chin until their eyes met. Intelligence and something more lurked in his shadowy blue depths.
“Care to elaborate?”
If she told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe her. She crossed her fingers under the blanket. “I work in an ER. We’re always short-staffed. More often than not, I work twelve-hour shifts. Taking care of patients can be exhausting.”
“But you do more than just take care of your patients, don’t you?”
Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, but she schooled her features into what she hoped was a calm expression. Now that the sweeping pain had receded, she found she couldn’t look away from the directness in Tristan’s gaze. “What…what do you mean?”
“You pray over them or whatever you call what you did with Hannah just now and with Annie yesterday.”
“Sometimes. What of it?” She held her breath. He’d witnessed her gift in action. Did he understand what he’d seen?
“You spend time and mental energy worrying about your patients. No wonder it makes you ill.”
She brushed his hand away. “Usually, I’m pretty good but this situation…it’s difficult when my emotions are involved.” Knowing Kinetica could show up any moment and steal her away—not to mention the tension between Tristan and her—drained her energy.
“You don’t need to convince me.” Tristan’s tone was reasonable, but Lillian knew if she hadn’t just passed out in the recliner, he’d say much more.
Maryanne entered with a container, a bowl, a carton of milk, and plastic utensils and set them on a table, which she rolled to the recliner. Tristan lifted the plastic cover, opened the paper napkin, and spread it on Lillian’s lap with a flourish.
“Let’s see what gourmet items are on today’s menu. Hmm, the special is scrambled eggs, wheat toast, an assortment of fruit—” he poked around with his fork, “—including at least one strawberry, and my personal favorite and the choice of preschoolers everywhere, Cheerios. What would you like?”
She smiled and held out her hand for the fork. “The fruit.”
“Excellent choice.” He speared a piece of melon with the fork and held it to her lips.
“I’m not an invalid. You don’t have to—”
He shoved the melon in her mouth and winked at Maryanne. “Amazing how well this works, isn’t it?”
Maryanne laughed, clearly charmed. “I see you know how to handle her. She’s in good hands. I’ll check on my other patients and will be back in a bit.”
Tristan nodded, and Maryanne left in a flurry of uniform. He turned back to Lillian with an exaggerated growl. “All right, my pretty. You are now solely in my clutches. Eat your breakfast, or I’ll lock you in the dungeon.”
“Tristan, this is silly. I said I can serve myself—”
In went a strawberry. Tristan sighed as if she were the greatest burden in the world. She had no choice but to chew and swallow. When she finished the fruit, he started on the scrambled eggs.
“Really, Tristan, I’m much better now. I’ll take over from here.” She reached for the fork, but he held it away from her hands.
“And ruin my fun?” His eyes twinkled, laughter in their depths. “Why didn’t I think of this earlier? You can’t argue with your mouth full of food. Brilliant.”
He brought the fork of egg toward her mouth. She tightened her lips and frowned. “Give me the fork, mister.”
He laughed but didn’t budge when she put her hands on the end of the fork and tried to wrest it from him.
“What, so you can stab me to death? I don’t think so. Open up.”
“Tristan, I swear—” In went the egg.
“You must be feeling better if you’re back to swearing.”
Laughter choked her, but she found herself dutifully chewing and swallowing. “Enough.” She held her palm out, effectively blocking his path. “I’m much better now, thank you. Will you please hand over the fork?”
He let out an exaggerated sigh, but he gave her the utensil. “A bossy one, aren’t you?” He flashed a glimmer of a smile, so she’d know he wasn’t serious.
She blinked and took calming breaths. The Grim Reaper had disappeared, and in his place was a charming, attractive male. Lillian could admit it, even if she had no intention of sticking around after their so-called date tomorrow night. She busied herself with the food, trying not to notice the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, contrasting with the sparkle in his navy-blue eyes.
Tristan’s cell phone buzzed, and he excused himself to answer it, strolling to the window overlooking the parking lot. He tugged a hand through his hair. His energy shifted, diminished. Whatever the call was about, it wasn’t good.
She finished her scrambled eggs and took a sip of milk. The light-headed feeling vanished. Being around Tristan, she’d absorbed more of his energy already.
Lillian pushed the table away and pulled back the cover. She wasn’t a patient. She couldn’t risk sleeping in the hospital. And once Hannah improved, she’d need to leave as soon as possible, no matter how much she longed to stay. Time to get up and see for herself how her sister fared.
The movement caught Tristan’s attention, who turned and frowned at her, shaking his head like she was his to order around. Just because he’d agreed to help her with Hannah didn’t mean he could dictate if she stayed resting or not. It was dangerous for her to sleep in the hospital, where anyone could walk in and find her.
She slipped her feet off the side of the chair and headed toward the bathroom. When she came back, he’d finished his call and was prowling the room.
“I have to go visit my mom. Stay here and rest.”
She stopped at the foot of the bed and studied her sister. “I don’t need rest. What I need is to keep an eye on Hannah.”
“Your friend is sleeping. You can’t help her right now. You would do well to catch up on your sleep so you can help when she’s awake again.”
Lillian nodded. What Tristan said made sense, but she’d be better off catching up on sleep at Tristan’s house where at least he had an alarm system. Kinetica could already be spying on her, waiting for an opportunity to get her alone—to drug her and force her to go with them.
He pulled the blanket from the recliner and held it up with a grin. “Hop in, then. I’ll tuck you in.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain a glimmer of a smile as she returned to the recliner. She had to admit, it felt good to have someone looking out for her, even if she had no intention of staying on the makeshift bed after he left the room.
He tucked the blanket around her and then whipped out his cell phone and snapped her picture before she knew what he was about.
Cold fear tightened her belly. “Why did you do that?” She tried to grab his phone and delete the photo, but he held it out of reach.
He smirked. “I believe that was the first real smile you’ve given me since I met you. I thought I’d better capture it so I don’t forget.”
Fear turned the blood in her veins to ice. “I didn’t say you could take my picture. Delete it.”
He narrowed his gaze and frowned, and Lillian realized her strong reaction to being photographed had made him suspicious.
“Why do I have the feeling the minute my back is turned, you’ll give me the slip? Remember our deal. You promised to be my date for the fundraiser tomorrow evening.” The Grim Reaper had returned.
Lillian took a breath. There was no sense drawing further attention to herself and feeding his suspicions. She wasn’t going anywhere at the moment, and if she stayed calm, perhaps she could convince Tristan to delete the photo later.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
He brushed the hair from her eyes and his tone softened. “Good.”
She grabbed his arm. “Tristan, I…”
He turned, and his gaze held hers. “What is it?”
