My pulse stutters. I smile anyway.
“Then don’t,” I whisper. “Not yet.”
He exhales, a sound somewhere between relief and restraint, and pulls me into his chest, holding me there longer than necessary, longer than is safe.
Aleksander’s lips find mine again—gentle now, lingering, almost an apology for everything raw between us. For a moment, I just melt into him, letting myself feel his strength, his warmth, the way his hands slide into my hair and hold me like I’m something fragile. He kisses me slow, then softer still, before finally pulling away.
I slide off the desk, tugging my jeans back up and searching for my shirt, cheeks flushed and legs still trembling as I get dressed. Aleksander’s watching me, a shadow of a smile on his lips, but there’s a new tension in his jaw now, something that tells me we’re not quite back to ordinary.
“I need a shower,” I mutter, running a hand through my tangled hair, and he just nods, letting me slip past him out the door. The house is quiet as I make my way to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes and stepping under the spray. I close my eyes, letting the hot water wash away the sweat, the mess, the memory of his hands still lingering on my skin.
But even as the water runs over me, I can’t quiet the prickle of worry in the back of my mind. Lily. I haven’t checked on her since she went down for her nap. Guilt tightens my chest, and as soon as I’m out and dressed in fresh clothes, I pad barefoot down the hall toward the guest room.
When I step inside, the air feels thick. Lily’s face is flushed, her hair damp with sweat, tiny fists clutching at the sheets. I touch her forehead and panic flares in my chest—she’s burning up, hotter than before.
“Lily?” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair off her face, but she just whimpers, eyes barely opening.
I don’t hesitate. “Aleksander!” I call out.
He’s there in seconds, all that hard-edged confidence wiped away, replaced by real fear.
He takes one look at Lily, checking her temperature, the way she’s breathing. I start to speak, my voice shaking. “You said no hospital, but?—”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No. That’s nonnegotiable when it comes to her. We’re going. Now.”
His eyes are steel, but there’s a tenderness there too, something fierce and protective that makes me trust him without question. He scoops Lily up with surprising gentleness, cradling her small body against his chest, and I throw on a jacket, fussing over her as we hurry to the car.
“It’s okay, baby, you’re going to be okay,” I murmur, smoothing her hair, pressing cool fingers to her cheek as Aleksander drives, fast but steady. My hands shake as I check her pulse, her breath,doing everything I can to comfort her, to soothe her, but I can’t hide the fear in my voice.
Aleksander glances at me in the rearview, jaw set. “We’ll be there soon,” he says, and I nod, still fussing, whispering soft words to Lily as the city blurs past, each minute stretching painfully long.
We pull up to the hospital, and before the car has even stopped, Aleksander is out, opening the back door. “Give her to me,” he says, voice urgent but gentle. I cradle Lily and hand her over, my hands shaking. She’s burning up in his arms, her eyelids fluttering.
Inside the hospital, the receptionist glances at us—at the panic in my face and the way Aleksander holds Lily tight.
“My daughter has a high fever—she’s barely responsive,” Aleksander says, voice calm but commanding.
“Name?”
“Lily Thomas,” I say.
She checks the list, then sees how desperate we are and waves us through. “Exam Room Three. A nurse will be there right away.”
In the small green room, Aleksander lays Lily on the bed. I hover at her side, pulling her little socks off, pressing a cool hand to her forehead.
“Lily, sweetheart, can you hear me?” I whisper, brushing sweaty hair from her face. Her lips move but she doesn’t answer.
Aleksander crouches down, holding her hand. “She’s still hot,” he mutters, worry etched deep in his brow.
I turn to him, biting my lip. “Do you think it’s the same as last time?”
His jaw clenches. “Maybe. We’ll let the doctor see.”
The nurse sweeps in, brisk but kind. “What’s her temperature?”
“Over 102,” Aleksander says.
“Any vomiting? Chills?”
