Page 80 of Taken By the Fae

“I’m going home,” I tell him, getting off the elevator and speed-walking toward the doors that lead to the parking lot. “His doctor,” I say once I’m outside, “she knows about the fae.”

“What’s her name?” His voice is deep, and there are muted sounds around him, as if he’s walking somewhere and passing people.

“Richelle Collins.”

“I’m not familiar with the name. I’ll have Skylar look into her.”

“Okay,” I say, fumbling with the keys before I finally get the car unlocked and slump against the driver’s seat. “Can you do your fae thing and just appear here?” I shove the key into the ignition and start the car before reaching to buckle my seatbelt.

“Distance is tricky. I haven’t fed recently, and even then, you’re too far. I’ll have to drive.” Right. I forgot about the proximity limitations of shifting.

Staring out the windshield, my vision blurs with tears. I close my eyes, my heart beating hard in my chest after fleeing the hospital. “Tristan, what do I tell my parents?”

“Nothing yet. The truth won’t make any sense to them, and until we know how to fix it, it won’t do them any good.”

Despite knowing full well that he’s right, the pit in my stomach grows. “Right. Okay.”

“We’ll figure this out, Rory,” he says in a voice that makes my chest tighten. “I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

After updating—read: lying to—my parents about my visit with Elijah, I sit with them at the dining room table, forcing myself to swallow the breakfast of scrambled eggs and pancakes Dad made. I let them know Tristan is coming back, making up some lame excuse about him wanting to check in and see my hometown, which only makes Mom more inquisitive about our relationship. I narrowly escape that conversation by shoving the last bit of pancake into my mouth and washing it down with a glass of orange juice. I quickly excuse myself, grabbing my dishes and carrying them to the kitchen to load into the dishwasher before disappearing upstairs to take a shower. I’ve got time to kill until Tristan arrives, and the last thing I want to do right now is field questions from either of my parents about him. Because most days, I feel as if I have no idea what’s going on between us. I’m drawn to him, I crave him, want to be near him constantly… and I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I’m entirely out of my element—it’s as exciting as it is terrifying, and I’m not sure what to do with that.

Dressed in plain black leggings and Dad’s old college crewneck, I sit cross-legged on the porch swing and wait for Tristan, cradling a steaming mug of hazelnut-flavored coffee in my hands. I want to text Allison and let her know what’s happening, but with the unseelies’ suspected involvement, I’m not sure it’s safe. And that feels about as good as a stack of bricks on my chest. She’s my best friend, and I want to confide in her, tell her everything. But when it comes to Elijah and making sure we can wake him up, I can’t take any chances.

When Tristan’s car pulls up to the curb, the urge to jump up and close the distance between us sweeps over me. I set my mug on the windowsill and stand, walking toward the porch steps. Tristan walks around the front of his car, his hair framing his face messily and black sunglasses covering his eyes. The dark jeans and gray T-shirt under his black leather jacket make him look downright—fuck me, I’m staring at him so hard.

He climbs the steps, drawing me against his chest without a word. His hand cradles the back of my head, and I allow myself this moment to just close my eyes and be overtaken by his presence, his warmth, his citrus and sandalwood scent. My pulse jackhammers, and I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his shirt. I want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Where, for the space of a heartbeat, my brother isn’t locked in endless sleep because of some fae. Where I don’t have to worry that my best friend is putting herself in danger by simply being with Evan. Where I don’t have to figure out what’s going on between me and the fae knight whose arms I’m in.

“I told my parents you came to see my hometown,” I mumble against his chest.

A soft laugh rumbles through him, and he pulls back. “Oh? And where are you going to show me first?”

“You’ve already seen the inside of my bedroom, so everything is pretty dull in comparison.”

“No doubt,” he murmurs with a faint smirk. His expression smooths, and he brushes his fingers along my cheek. “Whenever you’re ready to go back to the hospital—”

“Let's go now.” I step away from him and grab my mug off the windowsill. “I’ll tell my parents we’re leaving.”

I slip inside and find them in the living room. There’s a sitcom rerun Dad appears to be watching at first, but when I get closer, it looks more as though he’s staring into space, while Mom is dusting the decades old crystal in the cabinet beside the front window. My stomach sinks; Mom doesn’t clean—she’s distracting herself. I guess I take after her with keeping busy to avoid things… I certainly can’t fault her for it.

“I’ll be back soon,” I tell them.

Mom looks up, setting a champagne flute we’ve never used back in the cabinet. “Isn’t Tristan going to come inside?”

“Maybe later.” I’m already walking to the front door. “I’ll bring dinner home,” I say before stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind me.

“All set?” Tristan asks from the same spot I left him.

I nod, dropping my gaze to his outstretched hand. Sliding my fingers through his, I shove away the voice in my head asking,what does this mean? I don’t have the mental bandwidth to consider it at this moment, so I walk next to Tristan, letting him open the passenger door for me and sliding into the car.

The silence between us from the moment we pull away from the curb until we’re in the elevator at the hospital is comfortable. There’s a good chance neither of us knows what to say, but I finally break the silence as we ride to the pediatric floor.

“What are you going to do?” I ask in a low voice, leaning against the wall opposite him.

Tristan regards me thoughtfully. “When I brought you here a couple of days ago, I didn’t really see Elijah. Once I do, I should know more of what we’re dealing with.”

I nod. “Should we confront his doctor? She was talking about running more tests while on the phone with someone when I walked in earlier—we should find out who, right?”

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