She saw Tristan’s face, desperate and yelling over hers, but all she heard was the whoosh of the blood in her veins. She tasted leather and blood. Hands held her down. She felt herself being lifted and carried. Pale faces, frightened faces, flashed past her.
“Tristan?” she lisped. Something was in her mouth. She got her fingers to obey her enough to pull it out, and stared at a leather strap. A belt.
“It’s okay, Lily,” Tristan said, his voice high and fearful. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Won’t make it,” she whispered. Her tongue was so swollen it filled up her mouth. “Too hot.”
“Okay,” he said, immediately understanding. “I’ll take you to Juliet.”
Lily saw Breakfast running in front of them. He opened the car doors and helped Tristan put Lily in the front seat and buckle her up.
“Oh my God. She’s burning,” Breakfast said in a quavering voice.
“Just leave it. There’s no time,” Tristan growled. “Shut the door.”
Breakfast obeyed and got in the back. Tristan sped to Lily’s house, and he and Breakfast carried her inside.
“Tristan? What’s going on? What happened?” Juliet cried as soon as she saw Lily.
“Some bastard slipped vodka into Lily’s drink. Get ice.”
Juliet ran to the fridge as Tristan and Breakfast carried Lily upstairs to the bathroom. Tristan put her in the tub and cranked on the cold tap, tilting her head under it. Lily sighed when the water spilled across her roasting forehead. Juliet joined them and dumped ice into the tub. Tristan’s face floated over hers. She wanted to cry and scream and push him away from her, but she couldn’t move.
“Please tell me she’s not going to die,” Breakfast said in a slightly hysterical tone. “I don’t think I could handle watching someone die.”
“How did this happen, Tristan?” Juliet asked, ignoring Breakfast. “Did you leave her alone?”
Tristan didn’t answer for a while. He scooped water over Lily, his hands stiff and white with cold. “Yeah. I left her.”
Water filled the tub. Lily’s slack limbs floated up around her. She looked at them, breaking the surface of the water. She watched how the surface of the water clung to her and formed liquid webs between her fingers. Finally, she felt the fire go out. Exhaustion followed, nearly paralyzing her with its quick onset.
“Her fever’s dropping,” Tristan said from far, far away.
Lily’s eyes shut and she slipped into sleep.
* * *
Lily felt Tristan’s arm, heavy and smooth, draped over her shoulder. He was tucked against her back, all the covers piled on top of him to keep him warm while Lily stayed cool. The window was open. Lily watched her white curtains swell and sink on the cold November breeze. A day ago, she would have been over the moon to lie like this with him, but now she felt nothing for him. In fact, she wanted him to leave so she could figure out why she felt so empty. Lily was looking for a way to wiggle out from underneath his heavy arm when Tristan’s breathing hitched and he woke up.
“Lily?” he said anxiously, rising up on his elbow behind her.
“I’m awake,” she answered.
“Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need something?”
“No, Tristan. I don’t need anything.”
She felt him looking down at her, studying her, but she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Again, she wished he’d go away so she could think.
“I’m so sorry—I can’t believe Scot did that to you,” he said quietly. She could feel angry heat radiating off of Tristan and saw his fist clench. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him.”
“Why?” Lily asked. “He’s not the one who abandoned me for another girl.”
A long, awkward silence stretched out between them. Lily felt Tristan grow tenser with every passing second. He flopped onto his back with a frustrated sigh.
“I’m sorry you saw that, okay?” More silence. She didn’t know what to say. He took her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. “Will you at least look at me?”
Lily did as he asked. She half expected to burst into tears or start screaming at him as soon as she saw his face. But she didn’t feel anything for Tristan except a growing sense of disgust.