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He made a sound of disbelief, but when she nodded, he sighed and strode to the opposite side of the room as she’d asked.Thank God.
He crossed his arms and waited, a look of tired impatience on his face. “Well?”
She wiped her hands on her dress, but it didn’t wipe her anxiety away. “Sorry, I can’t concentrate with you right next to me.”
His lips tilted up in a smirk. “You’re kidding, right?
The amusement in his tone stung. He had no idea the difficulty of the task in front of her. How she’d need to focus so that she didn’t hurt him. How she risked her own health.
She dropped her gaze to Hannah. What Tristan thought of her didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving her sister. She reached for Hannah’s hand, smoothing her fingers across her wrist, feeling for a pulse. “I need a minute.”
“Go right ahead. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be right here…waiting.”
She closed her eyes on the sight of Tristan propped against the wall like he posed for a painting.
One, two, three…breathe.
It took her a full ten minutes to get her brain into the proper mental state needed for healing.
From across the room, Tristan studied Zoey where she leaned against the bed, head bowed over her friend. An ache of sympathy filled his heart. Was she praying?
He shifted his weight against the wall. With her face smooth of the tension it held earlier, she was quite beautiful. He reminded himself of the gravity of the situation. What did it matter what she looked like? He was only here to help her friend.
He ran a hand across the back of his neck, but it didn’t release the hard knot that had formed there. How was he to accomplish anything when she’d relegated him to a corner like a child who’d misbehaved?
After what seemed like an eternity, Zoey grasped Hannah’s hand and called to her, but her friend remained unconscious. Long seconds passed with the rhythmic rasp of the ventilator, the beep of the heart monitor, and his own breathing the only sounds breaking the silence.
He pressed his lips together and shifted his feet. “Zoey…”
She motioned for him to come closer. When he neared the bed, she closed her eyes and swayed back and forth, trance-like. Was it his imagination, or did Hannah’s face look brighter, more animated? Tristan stilled.
As if she heard his thoughts, Hannah turned in the hospital bed, the first movement Tristan had seen her make since he entered the room. Zoey still held Hannah’s hands, her eyes closed, reminding him of how she’d held little Annie Logan’s hands.
Zoey opened her eyes and shot Tristan a look of what? Desperation? Panic? He caught the anxiety reflected there before her gaze flew back to Hannah’s.
To hell with standing by while she prayed for her friend or whatever she was doing. He was supposed to be helping. He moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me talk to the doctor. I’ll see what we can do to improve Hannah’s care.”
Lillian made a small noise and pressed her hand over his. Her fingers were cool and curled around his, causing a strange warmth to unfurl in his belly.
“I can’t lose her.”
“Shh. You won’t. Hannah’s tough. She’ll make it.” He entwined their fingers to offer her comfort.
Lillian’s grip tightened.
He kept up a steady stream of words, calming words, he hoped. “I have a friend who’s one of the top respiratory doctors in the nation. Doctor Melanie Harris. You may have heard of her. She’s a regular correspondent on CNN. I called her before we left my house. Mel has agreed to look into Hannah’s case.”
Tristan waited for some response—a word of thanks, perhaps—but none came. Motion from the bed caught and held his attention. Hannah’s eyes fluttered, then opened.
ChapterSeven
Lillian let out her remaining breath in a whoosh. She tugged her hands from Tristan’s and hovered over Hannah. A familiar focus descended, even though her heart lurched in her chest and a dull headache pounded behind her left temple.
She’d overused her talent. She’d been so intent on saving Hannah without harming Tristan, she’d ignored her personal boundaries. Used too much of her own energy. If Tristan hadn’t placed his hands on hers when he did, she’d have passed out. Who knows if she would have regained consciousness.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Though she’d have to suffer her body’s painful reaction, this was an insignificant price to pay if her efforts cured Hannah. She bit her lip. Pain radiated down her spine and settled in her hips. She would not be able to stay on her feet for much longer.
Absorbing Tristan’s enormous energy had been difficult. Not that it was hard to access. He oozed power like a leaky hose. But he also caused her pulse to race and sent her system into overdrive, which made it challenging to channel. It took tremendous control to ignore his charismatic presence and focus on the task of healing her sister.
