Silence stretched, and then the lock turned with a soft click.
Eva looked terrible. She was fever-flushed and glassy-eyed, with dark circles carved under her eyes. She wore a thick blanket around her shoulders, and—dammit—her laptop was open on the bed to a spreadsheet that looked like financials.
Still working. Stillfighting.
God, I loved her.
The thought hit me like a truck, stealing my breath.
“Jesus, Eva,” Cole muttered, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling a doctor.”
“No.” Her voice was hoarse but firm.
“Eva—”
“It’s just a cold. I don’t need a doctor.”
“You sound like you’re dying.”
“I’m not letting you throw money at this.” She coughed, wincing. “If I get worse, I’ll go to urgent care.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. I watched him war with himself, wanting to fix this, to use his resources, to control the situation the way he controlled everything. To my surprise, he pocketed his phone.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But if your fever goes higher, I’m dragging you to the ER myself. And I don’t give a shit if you hate me for it.”
I closed her laptop gently and set it aside. “No more work tonight.”
“Have you eaten?” Cole demanded.
She didn’t answer.
“Eva!” Cole was unraveling, the same way he unraveled when I got sick and needed care—whenever he had to face a problem he couldn’t fix with money, like he couldn’t fix our relationship with Eva. His hands curled into fists. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll get food. Medicine. Whatever.”
“Cole—”
“I’m not asking permission,” he said flatly. Then, he was gone, the door to Eva’s room slamming behind him.
I helped Eva sit down on the bed, her skin burning under my hands—fever-hot and clammy at the same time.
“You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” I brushed sweaty hair off her forehead andlet my hand linger there for just a second. “Let me take care of you. Please.”
Her eyes filled with tears, exhaustion stripping away all her defenses. “I’m so tired, Tristan.”
“I know, kitten.”
She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her carefully, like she might shatter if I held too tight, worried she’d remember she hated me and pull away.
She didn’t pull away, though. She just shook in my arms, crying quietly, and I thought my heart might actually break.
Cole came back twenty minutes later with bags from a pharmacy and a deli.
“I didn’t know what you needed, so I got everything.” He emptied it all on her nightstand. He’d picked up half the cold medicine aisle, three types of soup from the deli, Gatorade in every flavor, and a thermometer still in its package. A bottle rolled off, and I caught it.
“Real smooth, Carter.”