“Looks like a type of flu,” Goldberg says after examining Yulia. “It hit her hard, probably because her immune system was already under stress from her injuries and everything. I’ll get her started on an antiviral and give her Tylenol to bring down the fever. Other than that, you just keep her comfortable and make sure she gets enough fluids.”
As he speaks, Yulia’s eyelids flutter open, and she stares at me in confusion. “Lucas?” Her voice is weak and raspy as she rolls over onto her side. “What—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re just feverish from the flu,” I say, sitting down on the bed next to her. Picking up the water bottle from the nightstand, I slide my arm under her upper back and help her sit up, propping her up on the pillows. Handing her the bottle and the pills Goldberg gives m
