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Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Lillian wasn’t sure how long she injected power into Brenda’s body. Long enough for her foot to fall asleep and her arms to feel sluggish. Long enough for her to realize she was funneling too much energy from Tristan, and she needed to stop or risk harming him. Long enough to know she would not be able to cure Brenda King of Huntington’s no matter how badly she wanted to. The disease had too strong a grip on Brenda’s body, and as she’d suspected, their body chemistry was not a good match.
“Enough.” Tristan gripped her shoulder, shaking her.
She released Brenda’s hands and opened her eyes to see him glowering over her, his chiseled features creased in concern.
“Is she okay?” Brenda’s voice sounded like she’d spoken into a long pipe positioned miles away. “Nancy, get her some water.”
The room tilted and swayed, and Lillian closed her eyes and tried hard not to pass out. Thank goodness she was still sitting.
Tristan crouched to wrap an arm around Lillian’s shoulder “Here, take a drink.” He held a glass of cold water to her lips.
She did as he said, the drink and Tristan’s cool energy clearing her head.
“Tristan, honey, have her lie down. She doesn’t look well,” Brenda said.
Before Lillian could object, Tristan picked her up in his strong arms and carried her to the couch, positioning her among the cushions.
She sighed. “I could get used to this.”
He didn’t answer but propped a pillow under her head. “Take it easy. Lay here and rest a while.”
“I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
His blue eyes seared into hers, his expression stern, and she realized he was angry with her and trying hard not to show it. “Your definition of okay and my definition of okay are obviously different.”
“She’s exhausted. Now’s not the time to get upset with her,” Brenda said. She had come behind Tristan and laid her hand on his shoulder.
Tristan’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Lillian realized despite what she had told him about being able to heal, he had not quite expected to see such a major improvement in his mom’s condition.
“Mom?”
“Relax, I feel great.” She smiled at Lillian. “You have a magical touch.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Tristan shot a look toward Lillian, wonder in his eyes.
She smiled but shook her head from side to side and sent a silent apology, trying to remind him without words that a total cure was not possible—would never be possible.
He must have understood because he frowned, turning to his mom. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful. I’ve never been better. Listen, Nancy’s making breakfast; why don’t you both stay?”
Tristan flicked a glance at Lillian, his brows drawn. “Mom, I wish we could, but Zoey isn’t feeling well. I want to get her home and into bed so she can rest.”
“I understand.” She winked at Tristan, and warmth flooded Lillian’s cheeks. “You need to bring her back soon, though. Your Zoey is special.”
