Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 292

Ch. 62

Noah

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I shove out of the plastic chair and walk back to the medical ward. She’s in the bed beside Liam-she’s curled around his small body protectively, and she’s got both hands wrapped around one of his. She’s not crying but she has been, tear tracks streaking her cheeks, wiped away but not quite dry. But now she’s settled into the exhausted stillness on the other side of her fear-the kind of quiet that’s not calm, just spent.

Liam is asleep. Monitors steady. His color is better than it was an hour ago. I’m not sure why that brings me so much relief but it does.

I pull a chair to the other side of the bed and sit, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence.

“He’s going to be okay,” I say when she doesn’t.

She nods but still doesn’t look at me. It grates but I suppose I can’t really blame her.

“Dr. Lukas explained-the condition. Chronic but manageable. With proper monitoring he’ll be fine.” It’s meant to be reassuring but if it is, she gives no indication.

Another nod. Either she’s so drained she literally can’t find the strength to respond or she’s really making me work for it. Which again, I suppose is fair.

“She said you caught it at the right moment.” I try again, because apparently I’m the stubborn Alpha everyone tells me I am.

She looks at the bed. At Liam’s hand in hers. “He was fine at dinner,” she whispers.

Not to me, specifically. Just the fact of it-said aloud because she needs to say it, because the gap between fine at dinner and medical emergency at ten-thirty is the thing she’s trying to understand.

“I know,” I find myself placing my hand over hers where she’s holding Liam’s, studiously ignoring the repeat of the electric current I felt when touching her earlier.

No wonder people say touching your fated mate is so addictive, I think absently.

The monitors beep their steady rhythm and I force myself to focus on the sound. The thing I should say is in the room with us. I can feel it-taking up space, making the air between us slightly harder to breathe. I know what it is. I saw it on your face when you came to the door and you saw me see it and I’m sorry for that.

The specific apology for the specific thing I did, which is different from an apology for everything I’ve done-this one is just… I assumed the worst in the moment when you needed me to assume the best, and you saw me do it, and I’m sorry.

I know how to say it. I’ve said harder things. But I still don’t say it. Instead I lose myself watching Liam’s chest rise and fall. Allowing myself a reassurance from it I don’t deserve.

The silence extends, past the point where it could have been timing or thought-gathering. My failure to speak becomes an answer by default. I know this and I let it happen and I’ll kick myself for that later when I have more time to examine it.

My phone buzzes and I step into the hallway. It’s a text from Piper: Doesn’t seem like you’re coming back soo. Guess I’ll head home. Hope everything is okay,

I look at the message. I think about her on the couch with her book when I opened the door, the way she’d said go but meant something else entirely. I type: Liam’s situation turned out to be serious. He’s stable now. I’ve been

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helping manage.

She responds immediately: Goddess. Is there anything I can do? Do you need me there?

I don’t answer right away. I consider what I need you there would look like. Piper in the waiting area, doing the thing she’s good at which is making difficult situations feel more manageable. But something about her being here doesn’t feel right.

I type: No. Get some sleep. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

I stand in the hallway for a moment. Then I go back in. Cassandra looks at me when I enter-just briefly, checking what I’m carrying back into the room. Then she looks back at Liam like she can’t allow herself to wonder what I’m still doing here. Fuck if I even know.

But I sit back down in the chair anyway. I don’t mention the message or what it said or what I said back. Even with my admitted lack of emotional intelligence, I’m aware she doesn’t want to hear about any of that.

It doesn’t stop me from thinking about it myself though, about the fact that when Piper offered to come, I said no without hesitating, and refusing to examine why I said it.

I’m still not examining it.

Two AM comes and goes with me sitting in that chair. Cassandra hasn’t moved from her position next to Liam, both hands still holding his. I’m not sure if she’s asleep. I’m not asleep.

Liam stirs. Small movements first-a shift, a change in breathing. Then his eyes open. Unfocused, moving across the ceiling, finding nothing. Then they find his mother’s face.

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