Page 76 of Taken By the Fae

“All right,” Mom says. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll head over.”

* * *

My hands are shaking by the time we pull into the visitor parking lot at the hospital. The three of us ride to the pediatric floor in silence. Mom’s hands are clasped in front of her, while Dad has one arm around her and the other shoved in his pocket.

We walk to Elijah’s room and find his doctor—Dr. Richelle Collins, according to the blue embroidered name on her white coat—is standing beside his bed. She looks up when the three of us walk in, offering a smile. Mom, Dad, and I stand in the doorway.

“Good morning,” she says in a pleasant voice, turning her attention to me. She appears slightly younger than my parents—mid-thirties, if I had to guess. She has deep brown eyes and isn’t wearing makeup, save for some concealer to cover a few blemishes on her chin and cheeks. She hasn’t bothered trying to brighten the darkness under her eyes, though most of it is shielded by her glasses. “You must be Elijah’s sister.” She sticks her hand out, and I notice a brace around her wrist as I reach out to shake her hand. “I’m Richelle Collins.”

I glance between her and my parents, then nod. “Aurora.”

“Nice to meet you.” She pulls her hand back. “Would you mind sitting with Elijah for a few minutes so I can talk to your parents?”

I glance over at Mom and Dad, catching their subtle nods. “Sure,” I say. After a brief moment of hesitation, I walk over and sit where the doctor was when we came in.

When I look at him, with his eyes closed and the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, my throat burns. I want to crawl in beside him, but with all the machines he’s connected to, I’m worried I’ll disrupt one of them. I settle for taking his hand in mine like I did last night, brushing my thumb back and forth across his knuckles.

The clock on the wall counts the seconds passing with an echoingtick, tick, tickas I watch Elijah’s face, waiting, begging any higher power that will listen, for him to open his eyes. To move a finger.Something.

“Hey, buddy,” I say in a low voice, willing the lump in my throat to ease. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m here.” I squeeze his hand. “We’re going to figure this out, andwhenyou wake up, we’ll play video games and eat pizza until we’re sick of it. Just… please—” My voice breaks, and I turn my face away from him as a tear leaks free, rolling down my cheek. I quickly wipe it with the back of my other hand, dragging in a shallow breath as I fight to keep it together.

A couple of minutes later, Mom, Dad, and Dr. Collins walk in. There are fresh tears on Mom’s face, but she forces a smile.

“What’s going on?”

Mom and Dad exchange a glance, then turn to the doctor, who nods and shifts her attention to me.

“Unfortunately, our tests so far have been inconclusive.”

I shake my head. “What does that mean?”

She frowns briefly, looking toward Elijah for a moment. “There’s nothing physically wrong with him. For a child his age and with his medical history, Elijah is, on paper, perfectly healthy.”

I glance between where Elijah lies, attached to machines, and where my parents stand at the end of his bed. “I don’t… How is that possible? Clearly, something is wrong with him.” My voice takes on an edge that makes Mom turn to Dad, teary-eyed, her lower lip trembling as she fights back tears.

Dr. Collins steps toward me, offering a sympathetic smile. “I understand your confusion and concern. We’ll run more tests—I won’t give up on your brother, Aurora.” She reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around my forearm, and gives it a firm squeeze. Lowering her voice, she says, “I’m going to find out why this has happened and do everything I can to make him better.”

My eyes snap to hers, and something in them makes me freeze. The unease swirling around my stomach grows more intense, and I press my lips together, nodding slowly.

She steps away and smiles at my parents before leaving the room. I sink back into the chair next to Elijah’s bed as I fight back the scream of helplessness caught in my throat.

ChapterTwenty-One

We stay with Elijah for over an hour before Dad suggests we head out for some fresh air, and Mom quickly agrees. I don’t think either of my parents can handle sitting in a room with their unexplainably unconscious son when there’s nothing they can do for him. I badly want to stay with him, but it turns out I’m not stronger than they are. If I continue to sit in that hospital room, I’m going to burst into tears, and that won’t help anything.

Mom and Dad are understandably pretty out of it when we get home, so I offer to cook. Knowing how much they love it, I make penne pasta in a rose sauce with a kale salad and garlic bread. We sit around the table, but we’re all picking at our plates. I stare at the wall of family photos that decorate the dining room and can’t help the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. Memories from summers road tripping up north to Mom’s parents’ cabin, the Christmas we spent in Florida at a fancy resort where Dad got food poisoning from a shrimp cocktail, and so many other events, big and small, showcasing our family.

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 wakes up,” I cut in, trying to keep my tone gentle, and nibble on the slice of garlic bread in my hand. My parents are just as concerned about Elijah 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 would Elijah. 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, and the bread tastes like cardboard. “Education isn’talwaysthe most important thing. Especially when Elijah is sick. I’ve made my decision.” Even as the words leave my mouth, the tightness in my chest expands, clamping down hard and stunting my breath. 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 the three of us give up picking at our food, Dad slips away to clean the dishes, 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.

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