Mom, Dad, and I head home for dinner after promising Adam we’d come back in the morning. I don’t think my parents can handle sitting in a room with their sick son when there’s nothing they can do for him. I want badly to stay with him, but it turns out, I’m no stronger than they are. If I continue to sit in that hospital room, I’m going to burst into tears in front of Adam, and that won’t help.
Mom and Dad both seem pretty out of it after we get to the house—understandably so—which is why I cook dinner. Knowing how much they love it, I make garlic bread and penne in a rosé sauce. We sit around the table, but we’re all picking at our plates.
Dad breaks the silence, saying, “Your mom and I understand that you’ll need to get back to school soon—”
“I’m not going anywhere until he’s better,” I cut in, trying to keep my tone gentle. My parents are just as concerned about Adam as I am. I don’t want to make it harder on them.
“Aurora, we don’t want your education to suffer because of this, and neither does Adam. You’ve accomplished so much, honey, and you’re almost there.”
The food in my mouth suddenly tastes sour. I have to force myself to swallow it. “Education isn’t always the most important thing. Especially when Adam is sick. I’ve made my decision.” The two biggest factors that typically trigger my anxiety are attacking simultaneously, forcing me to choose between my sick brother and my education. My degree has been my life for the past three years, but my family takes priority over it. I’ll figure it out.
Mom sighs. “Okay.”
After dinner, Dad offers to clean the kitchen, so I retreat upstairs and stand in the shower far longer than necessary. I’m drying myself off when I notice my phone going off on my bed. I rush over and answer it before it goes to voicemail.
“Hey.”
“When the hell were you going to tell me he got worse?” Allison asks. “I would’ve gone with you. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast. I found out last night while I was at the gala.” I explain how I got home as I pull a comb through my hair.
“Yeah, Tristan told me all of that. Do you want me to come there? I can be at your place in a few hours.”
“No, it’s okay. I appreciate you wanting to be here for me, but I’m going to stick around for a while.”
“Okay. Do you need me to talk to your professors? I can let them know what’s going on if you want.”
The idea of missing lectures makes my stomach queasy, but I say, “would you mind? That’d save me from emailing them. I’m sure they’ll understand. I have all of my placement hours done plus extra, so that won’t be a problem.”
“Of course. Consider it done.”
“Thank you, and—oh, shit! With everything . . . I forgot to call Tristan. Have there been any more attacks on the dark fae?”
“Not that I know of. I think Tristan got off his high horse and planned a meeting with Jules.”
“That’s good. Let me know if anything happens, will you?”
“Sure,” she murmurs, “and let me know what happens on your end, okay?”
“I will.”
“You know I love you, Aurora. I’m here for whatever you need. Always.”
“I know, and I love you. Thank you.”
I end the call and let out a long breath. I sit on the end of my bed and fidget with my phone. Not knowing how the following days are going to go is killing me. My skin itches, and my nerves are jumpy. My mind is racing with so many what-if scenarios, I can’t think straight.
I crawl under my sheets and try to relax. Tristan’s absence is almost tangible. As I gaze at the empty spot beside me, my chest aches. That’s new. I roll around to face the other way so I’m not staring at the blank space and close my eyes.
I drift off, grateful for the darkness pulling me under and away from reality. At least when I’m asleep, I can pretend everything is fine.
A scene materializes around me, and it takes a minute for me to realize I’m dreaming. I blink a few times, focusing on the fireplace in front of me. I’m in Tristan’s bedroom.
I stand, turning to glance around the room. “You can’t invade my dream and leave me here alone,” I call out.
Tristan enters the room out of nowhere. “I wanted to give you a safe space,” he says, approaching me at a comfortable pace. “I didn’t intend to make you spend time with me. I know you told me not to do this, but I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“It’s okay.” I glance at him. “I wish you were here,” I blurt.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing the hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear.
“You know what I mean,” I say. “How are things there?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not why I brought you here. We don’t need to talk about that.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about what I’m dealing with.”
“Then we won’t,” he says. “We can talk about whatever you want, or we don’t have to talk at all.”
“So, you brought me here to—?”
“To hopefully offer you some comfort. I spoke to Allison after she talked to you. I know what you’re dealing with, and I want nothing more than to be there with you, so this is what I’m doing.”
I reach out and take his hand in mine. “Thank you. You continue to surprise me.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Is that a good thing?” he asks.
“Some days it really is,” I say.
We sit on the loveseat in front of the fireplace with my back pressed against his front and his arms wrapped around my waist.
“Adam told me,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” He leans down, tracing his lips along my jaw.
“I know you went back to the hospital after we left,” I say.
“Why do you think that?” he asks, tracing slow circles on the back of my hand.
“Because I remember what it felt like when you healed me. The pain was there, and then it wasn’t. That’s what Adam told me, and he said the man who made him feel better was wearing a suit. You didn’t want to go back to the hospital in my dad’s sweatpants?”
“Ahh,” he murmurs, refusing to confirm my suspicion.
“Why didn’t you tell me you went back?” I push.
“You didn’t need to know, Rory.”
“Right. God forbid I think positively of you.”
He chuckles. “I didn’t do it for you,” he says in a soft tone.
I smile. “No, of course not.” I tip my head back and whisper, “Thank you.”
He kisses the spot right below my ear. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
I press my lips together, debating whether I should go through with what I’m about to say. “I saw your dream,” I blurt. “I mean, I was in it, like you’re in mine now. Except you didn’t know I was there.”
He shifts, peering down at me with a shocked expression. “You what?”
Swallowing, I say, “I don’t know how it happened. It was that first night you did it. You left my dream, and then when I fell asleep later on, I somehow entered yours.”
He frowns. “That’s unusual.”
“Random fae magic?” I offer.
He chuckles, but it holds no amusement this time. “Random fae magic sounds about right.”
“It only happened that one time.” I don’t want him to think I’ve been snooping through his dreams, especially since he’s stayed out of mine.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, and covers my hand with his.
I shake my head, wanting him to know he has no reason to apologize. I run my finger along the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
We lie together in silence for a while after that. I didn’t know it was possible to fall asleep during a dream, but I find my eyes drifting the longer I stare at the flickering flames in the fireplace, basking in the warmth it’s radiating.
“You know,” I mumble, sleep tugging at me. “I think I’m falling for you.”
Tristan exhales, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. He brushes his lips against the skin beside my eyebrow, and I close my eyes.
Before he can say anything, the scene fades away, and I’m staring at my mom’s frantic face as she shakes me awake.
“Get up, honey,” she says. “We have to go to the hospital.”
The silence is deafening. From the time we leave the house to the moment we step off the elevator on the pediatric floor, none of us says a word. I don’t need fae abilities to feel the terror we’re all experiencing.
We round the corner, and the moment I see the crowd of hospital staff surrounding Adam’s door, I freeze. My heart stops. Everything. Just. Stops.
We all move at once, sprinting toward his room, pushing through the nurses and doctors. Mom’s scream tears through the room, and once I manage to squeeze past a nurse, my hand flies to my mouth, and my legs wobble, no longer wanting to fight to hold me upright. I stumble back against the wall and stay there, unable to take my eyes off the mop of curls on Adam’s head.
Dad grabs Mom, crying as he tries to pull her away from the bed. No. Please, no. This can’t be happening. He was getting better. This isn’t—
A young doctor steps forward and faces my parents. “We tried to revive him for as long as we could, but his heart wouldn’t restart. His body wasn’t strong enough to fight off the pneumonia. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
My mom chokes on a sob, and Dad catches her before she collapses. “How did this happen? Where is Dr. Collins?” he demands.
“She was called away for an emergency out of town. We’ve notified her. Take as much time as you need, there’s no rush. Please let us know if you need anything.”
I shake my head, a faint ringing in my ears. “This isn’t happening.” My hand raises slowly and covers my mouth, my fingers shaking against my skin. Dr. Collins leaves town the night my brother loses his battle. Oh my god. Is Adam’s doctor light fae—the leader? There was always something I didn’t trust about her. What if . . . No. The light fae would have no reason to go after my family. Would they? I can’t think about this right now.
The doctors and nurses file out of the room, and I stand, staring at the wall, forced to listen as my parents sob over the death of their son, knowing there was nothing they could do to make him better. They pull me into a hug, and the three of us hold each other up as we cry for the loss of Adam.
I’m not sure how much time passes before any of us move. We leave the room; Dad is all but carrying Mom through the hospital as she wails into his chest. I walk in front of them, oblivious to, or not caring about, the people who turn to look at us. Have they never seen people leaving the hospital after losing a loved one? It’s ridiculous.
We sit in the parking lot and stare at the building where Adam is lying dead, his body not strong enough to fight off pneumonia because it was weak from the medicine meant to make him better.
“Okay?” Dad asks, breaking the silence in a voice so beaten down my chest tightens.
Mom says nothing, just sits there staring at her hands while her shoulders shake with soundless sobs.
“Drive,” I mumble from the back seat. I rest my head against the window and close my eyes. More than anything, I wish that I could go back in time and never have left his side.
I didn’t get to say goodbye.
Once we get back to the house, Dad helps Mom into the living room, and I retreat to my room, not ready to endure what comes next. We’ll have to call the family and tell them that Adam got worse and didn’t make it. Nothing makes sense right now, not now that Adam is gone.
Gone. He’s never coming back. I’m in a state of confusion and denial. I think about him being gone, and it’s as if I don’t believe myself. It doesn’t matter that I stood at the hospital and listened to the doctor tell me he was dead, or that I saw his still body, covered in ugly hospital bedding. I still don’t believe it.
Tears leak out of the sides of my eyes and fall down my cheeks. I turn my face and press it into my pillow to muffle the sob that rips free from my throat. I scream at the top of my lungs, then cry, my entire body wracked with tremors until there’s nothing left, and I’m dry heaving. Every muscle in my body aches. I can’t force myself to move, to get up and drink some water to ease the terrible burn in my throat. A part of me doesn’t want the pain to stop. Once it does, I’ll either start crying again or feel nothing at all, and that fact scares me so much I can’t move.
Adam didn’t deserve to spend the end of his life as an invalid, enduring treatment and being poked with needles. He didn’t deserve to have cancer or to die, but I figure most people who have suffered the same fate didn’t deserve it either.