Page 65 of The Orc's Sweetheart
“The doctors tried to help her, but that hospital didn’t have a nonhuman health division, so their knowledge was limited. We gave her fluids, let her rest, but she kept getting weaker.
“I started researching dryads, tried to get my hands on any relevant medical articles, but it was hard finding proper resources. Wanting to help her consumed me. I practically lived at the hospital. I stopped going home. Slept only in the chair next to her bed, or passed out in front of the computer while researching. My meals, whenever I remembered to eat, were from hospital vending machines.”
My heart contracts with every word out of Tilly’s mouth, but I don’t dare interrupt her, only rubbing soothing circles on her thigh to let her know I’m listening.
Tilly takes a shaky breath and continues without looking at me, “I kept that up for days. I knew I was pushing myself too hard, could feel myself burning out, but I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to help her. The other nurses tried to convince me to go home, but how could I when there was a patient who needed me? It felt like it was my sole responsibility to find a way to heal her, felt like no one cared as much as I did.”
I’m already shaking my head, not liking the direction this is going, but I physically bite my tongue to give her the silent support she needs right now.
“Then,” Tilly sighs, “I finally found a blog entry on a random site that might explain her symptoms. I vaguely remember walking to the nurse’s station to tell them—what time of day it was, I have no idea—but I collapsed right there, hitting my head against the counter and waking up hours later with an IV in my arm and in the same ward as my patient.”
Tilly takes my hand and places it on her head, guiding my finger to trace over a small bump in her hairline. “I still have the scar here. Needed eight stitches. At least it happened in the hospital and they could help me right away.”
I cup her face and gently brush my fingers along the scar, feeling the raised tissue as if it’s embedded into my own soul. “You worked so hard to help someone that you passed out and needed stitches?”
Tilly leans into my hand and her mouth turns up a fraction. “Yeah. It also taught me a lot of lessons. First, that we allhave limited energy and need to find our own unique ways to recharge. Yes, there’s sleep and food, but we need more to replenish that soul-deep energy. I needed to learn what worked for me. That’s when I started running in the mornings. It became my own therapy to be out on the quiet streets with my thoughts until I run long enough for my mind to just blank out, and the thumping of my feet on the ground and my heartbeat drumming in my ears become my only companions.”
I glance at Tilly’s ankle and realize how much she was willing to push herself once again to help someone who needed her. But she doesn’t have to do this alone—never again. I adjust the ice and check that the cold isn’t burning her skin before I lean back again and take her hand in mine.
Tilly’s tone pitches up a little, excitement coloring her words as she explains, “This all stemmed from that blog post I found that talked about energy. It mentioned dryads and how they need nature to thrive. My patient’s energy sources were depleted in the city because she gets recharged by spending time with trees. When you live in a dorm room in the center of a concrete jungle, it’s hard to survive. I volunteered to take her to a forest, but the nurses banded together and didn’t allow me to leave. Two of them took my patient and she came back later that day with a whole bouquet of wildflowers that she picked for me. She looked absolutely radiant.”
Tilly pauses again and takes a deep breath, then looks directly at me with a faint grin as she says, “The other lesson I learned is about community. Audrey, my cousin, was my emergency contact in the city and basically gave me an earful when she arrived at the hospital and saw the state I was in. That was theturning point of us going from cousins to friends. We made it our mission to not only look after each other, but after ourselves too. Not long after, I moved in with her.
“Today, I was once again reminded of how much Starry Hill’s community cares for each other. When I first heard Annamae was missing, I panicked and a bunch of negative emotions came flooding in. But, instead of letting stress consume me and going out to search for Annamae alone, I utilized the community, gave out instructions, and felt comforted by the sight of everyone banding together to find her, help her. Was I still stressed? Yes. But not as much as I would’ve been if you weren’t at my side. Knowing everyone else was there, too, meant so much to me.”
I put my arm around Tilly’s shoulders and she leans into me. Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I say, “I’m proud of you. You did so well today, sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right next to you whenever you need me.”
Tilly sits back and stares up at me with an apology in her eyes. “I’ll always need you. But, I’m not good at verbalizing it. Pride has always been my weakness and I’m not good at receiving help. I’m even worse at asking for it. I’m trying, though.”
Running my fingers along her hidden scar, I say, “That’s okay. I’m here to carry you wherever and whenever you need. And I’m going to take care of you, and help you take care of yourself, too.”
Tilly turns her head and kisses my palm. “We’ll take care of each other.”
I want to kiss her. Marry her. Make our promises everlasting.
Not now, Bodin. Bide your time. Let her tell you everything, then take her home and make love to her all night. Then propose.
Tilly takes a sip of her coffee and leans into me again as she continues her story, “So, one day, on one of my morning runs, I decided to further my studies and specialize in nonhuman family care. My patient never left my mind and I kept wondering about similar cases that might go untreated due to lack of knowledge. But also, living in the city was exhausting for me. Even thoughItried to slow down, the city never does.
“Halfway through my final year of specializing, I heard some patients talking about Starry Hill and what life was like there. It sounded idyllic. I asked around about it, and fell more in love with the idea of a cottage life and a garden and no cars and a community where everyone knows each other. The moment I got word about the possibility of an opening, I called and applied.”
A full grin beams from me. “The best decision you could’ve made—for yourself, for me, and for Starry Hill.”
Tilly’s eyes crinkle with pleasure. “It does seem to be working out pretty well for me.”
“And me,” I agree, and squeeze her hand.
Brows furrowing, Tilly’s tone turns earnest. “Bodin, I’m still far from perfect. I work too late. I get obsessed with cases and will try everything to find answers and solutions. Please bear with me as I try to find a balance for it all.”
I cradle her face between my hands and dip down so we’re at eye level. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere. But you’re wrong about something. To me, you’re perfect.”
“Bodin.” Tilly attempts to make my name sound like a reprimand, but the way she pouts assures me that she likes my words.
The corner of my mouth pulls up into a smirk. “This also explains your fierce determination to move that cart with all your luggage by yourself.”
Tilly narrows her eyes playfully. “Oh yeah, not a chance that I was going to ask you for help after you thought I was some fancy city princess.”
Relief at overcoming my prejudice escapes from me in a huff. “Being wrong never felt so right.”
