Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 290

Ch. 60

Cassandra

“I’ll call Dr. Lukas.” Noah pulls out his phone and dials while I force myself to breathe.

He’s already moving before the call ends-telling me to bring Liam to the medical wing, already ahead of me in the corridor, already making things happen with the efficiency that is just who he is when something needs to be done. And I’ve never been more thankful for it. I follow, Liam’s head still on my shoulder.

I hear, behind me, Piper’s voice. “Noah-”

“I’ll explain later,” he cuts her off, a hint of impatience in his tone if I’m not mistaken. “I’ve got to-”

“Go,” she sighs, clearly displeased with his choice to go with me. “Just go.”

I don’t look back. I can’t own her insecurities right now. Little does she know, I have enough for both of us.

The medical wing is quiet and cold and Dr. Lukas arrives faster than I’d dared hope. She has the composed quality of a doctor who has seen her share of emergencies and knows how to move through them without adding unnecessary urgency to the air. Her eyes run over Liam from head to toe, unhurried but not slow.

Then her gaze flicks to me. “How long?” It’s not a question, more of a demand for essential information.

“He was fine at eight,” I reply. “He called out for me at ten and when I checked on him, he was already like this.”

She nods and holds out her arms. “Let me take him.”

I don’t want to let go, my fingers automatically tightening where they clutch at his pajamas. Noah steps forward, his large hands covering mine as he gently pries my hands away. I grit my teeth against the jolt of electricity that shoots up my arm at his touch.

“It’s okay. She’ll take good care of him.” He whispers, his hot breath on my ear making me shiver.

I nod and relinquish him to her with a whimper. She takes him through the door and it closes. And I stand in the waiting area, my now empty arms hanging at my sides unsure what to do with myself.

Noah stays beside me. He’s no longer touching me. But close enough that I can see him in my peripheral vision, his presence reminding me I’m not alone. He ushers me to sit in one of the plastic chairs and sits across from me.

“He was fine at dinner,” I don’t know why I say it. I don’t even know who I’m saying it to.

Maybe I’m trying to convince myself my son wasn’t sick and I just missed it. Maybe I want Noah to believe I’m a good mother, one who would notice if something was wrong with her child.

I’m not making conversation. I’m just-the words are there and I say them because the alternative is sitting in complete silence with this fear and I don’t trust what I’ll do with that.

“I know,” Noah’s voice is soft, comforting. Quiet. Like he means it.

I take it for what it is, don’t let myself think too hard about it.

Thirty minutes later I’m still sitting in the plastic chair and I don’t even pretend I’m not losing it. I hold myself very still, taking shaky breaths that are coming faster and faster. My eyes are locked on the door Dr. Lukas disappeared through with my son and I don’t look away. If I do, I’ll crawl right out of my skin.

I don’t think about what’s behind the door, just stare at the door itself. Because thinking about what’s behind the door doesn’t help Liam and it doesn’t help me and I’d just end up going crazier than I already am.

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Noah doesn’t try to make conversation. He doesn’t pull the typical Alpha card, trying to manage the situation or

the silence with reassurances he doesn’t have the information to give. But he stays, right there beside me,just offering me his presence. And that in itself is a gift I don’t deserve.

At some point he stands, goes to the hallway dispenser and comes back with a cup of water. He sets it on the chair beside me. Doesn’t say anything. Sits back down.

I look at the cup like it’s a foreign object I don’t recognize instead of a basic means of hydration. He must notice my hesitation because he nudges it a bit closer. Finally, I pick it up and drink it without looking at him.

Finally, after what seems like a few too many lifetimes and a headful of brand new gray hairs, Dr. Lukas comes out. She looks at me first, then at Noah, something assessing in her expression. But I don’t have the patience of interest in deciphering what that is all about

“He’s stable,” she announces. “The fever is responding to treatment.” She pauses, and the concern in her eyes has my blood pressure spiking. “I want to run some additional tests-there are markers here I’d like to understand better before I say more.” She looks at me. “I don’t want to speculate until I have the full picture. But he’s not in danger tonight.”

I just nod, my voice nowhere to be found. I’m going to hold it together. I am holding it together.

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