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“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.”
