Chapter 6 6

“That’s… great,” I said, forcing the words out as I drew in a deep breath. The scent of coffee and toast filled the air, warm and comforting to anyone else, but it churned my stomach. The nausea I thought had passed surged back with vengeance. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as I tried not to retch all over the pristine tiles.

“I heard you closed the deal with Brookridge Hospital,” Willow said brightly, as if unaware of my inner turmoil. “That’s great news, Maya.”

“Thank you,” I managed, my voice soft. The queasiness refused to subside, and I decided the safest option was retreat. “I’ll leave you guys to it,” I murmured, picking up my cup of tea. “I’m going to finish getting ready.”

“Won’t you have breakfast?” Willow asked. “I made some French toast, if you’d like some.”

The mere mention of food sent another wave of sickness rolling through me. I swallowed hard and shook my head. “No, thank you.”

“You should try some,” Kellan urged, ever the attentive doctor. He rose from his seat and fetched a plate, sliding it toward me with an easy smile. “Willow makes the best French toast this side of the planet. You look a bit pale, Maya. You need more than that tea to keep up your strength.”

At that, Elias finally looked up. “Are you ill?” His tone was neutral, but his eyes lingered on my face, studying me closely.

“I’m just tired,” I replied softly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“That’s right, it stormed last night,” Willow added sympathetically, her voice warm.

I wanted to be angry at her for bringing it up. My fear of storms wasn’t exactly a secret, but I couldn’t summon the energy. My limbs felt heavy, my mind sluggish. It was only eight in the morning, and already I was exhausted.

“It’ll be a while before we get anything to eat after the funeral,” Willow went on. “You should get something down while you can.”

Elias took another bite of his toast, chewing slowly. His eyes flicked up, meeting mine. “There’s still time before we have to leave,” he said simply. “Eat.”

On trembling legs, I reached for the plate Kellan had offered and sat down at the counter. The food smelled rich and buttery. I stared at it for a long moment, pretending to gather my appetite while my gaze drifted to Elias again. He ate quietly, the picture of calm composure, while Willow moved easily around the kitchen, refilling his coffee with the familiarity of someone who belonged there.

And maybe, I thought bitterly, she did. Willow had been in and out of our home so many times over the past two years that she might as well have memorized where everything was kept.

Tearing my eyes away, I picked up a slice of French toast and brought it to my lips. One inhale of the sweet, eggy aroma was all it took. My stomach twisted violently. I shot to my feet, nearly knocking over the stool, ignoring the startled looks that followed me.

“I… excuse me,” I mumbled, before dashing out of the kitchen. I changed course halfway, deciding against the downstairs bathroom and heading for the one connected to my room instead.

Moments later, I was on my knees again, every heave ripping through me like punishment. When it was finally over, I washed my face and hands, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. I looked awful—sweaty, blotchy, and drained.

Pulling myself together, I stepped into the bedroom and stopped short. Elias was standing by the door, concern etched across his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low, careful.

“Yeah.” I forced a weak laugh. “I… shouldn’t have eaten so much so late last night.”

His eyes swept over my face, lingering briefly on my colorless lips and glassy eyes. I knew I looked terrible. The nausea had eased, but I still felt wrung out.

“Sit down,” he said quietly. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

Too tired to argue, I obeyed and sank into the armchair. Elias crossed the room and crouched in front of me, bringing our eyes level. He studied me intently, as if he could read what was wrong just by looking hard enough.

“Are you sure you can manage the trip?” he asked. “You don’t have to attend if you’re not feeling well. Kellan can take a look at you, see if it’s just a bug.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. There was no way I was missing Paul’s funeral. And I definitely didn’t want Kellan examining me—not when there was something I didn’t want anyone discovering yet. “I’ll just drink some water. It should pass.”

“Still, I’d feel reassured if Kellan checked on you.”

I knew he wouldn’t let the matter drop. So I nodded, feigning agreement, even as anxiety tightened in my chest. Elias straightened and left the room, leaving me sitting there, staring at my trembling hands.

When Kellan entered, he was professional, though his concern was evident. He asked me questions gently, his tone lowering when Elias stepped away to take a call.

“Sure you’re okay, Maya?” he asked, voice soft but serious. “You still look pale. Have you been sleeping well lately? Not just last night.”

“Not really,” I admitted, forcing a laugh when he frowned. “I’ve just been busy with the contracts and everything.”

He sighed. “I know things have been rough these past few months, but you need to take better care of yourself.”

He moved closer, giving me a questioning look before placing a hand lightly on my forehead. “Your temperature’s normal, but you do look a little anemic.”

I smiled faintly and batted his hand away. “I’m fine, Kellan. Really. I just don’t have makeup on, that’s probably what’s making you say that.”

He grinned, the teasing warmth returning to his expression. “Please, I’ve seen you dozens of times without makeup. We grew up next door, remember? You never used to look like death warmed over first thing in the morning.”

“Ouch. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” His tone softened. “Still, I’m going to recommend you take some over-the-counter iron supplements for now. But I’d like you to come in for a few tests, just routine stuff.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised a hand. “You’re long overdue for a check-up, Maya.”

“Fine,” I said after a moment, though I had no intention of visiting his hospital. “I’ll drop by sometime next week.”

“Good.” He smiled, satisfied, and rose to leave. But before he stepped out, he paused and leaned down again, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder.

“Today’s going to be hard,” he said gently. “I know how much Paul meant to you. Just don’t let it get too overwhelming, okay? It’s fine to step away if it does.”

I managed a small nod, my throat tight. The kindness in his voice nearly undid me. But when he left, I sat there for a long time in silence, staring at the floor and wishing my secret didn’t feel like a ticking clock inside my chest.