As soon as the car rolled through the tall wrought-iron gates and into the expansive driveway of the mansion, Tristan reached over and placed his hand gently on mine.
His touch was warm and steady, as though he could absorb the tension shaking my fingers. It was a silent promise, a wordless plea for me to breathe.
I turned toward him with pleading eyes, silently asking questions I didn’t dare voice. But Tristan avoided my gaze, his jaw tightening as he looked away. Without a word, he stepped out of the car.
A moment later, the rear door on my side swung open. He stood there, tall and composed, his expression unreadable. Before I could even think about stepping down, he bent and lifted me into his arms—just as he had earlier at the hospital.
Surprise froze me for a heartbeat, then ins
