Chapter 380
LILLY.
The bathroom is quiet except for the soft sound of running water.
I steady Sierra with one hand as she leans slightly against the counter, her weight heavier than it should be, not because she can’t stand on her own but because she doesn’t try. Everything about her feels passive now, like she’s simply existing instead of living.
“Careful,” I murmur, guiding her as she rinses her hands.
She doesn’t respond. She hasn’t responded to much of anything in the last few days.
I reach for a towel and gently pat her hands dry before moving to fix the sleeve of her sweater. Her movements are slow and automatic, like she’s following instructions her body remembers even if her mind doesn’t.
Behind us, I can hear Aunt Ivy moving around the room: the soft zip of a suitcase closing and the quiet shuffle of clothes being adjusted. Every sound feels louder than usual, like the silence in Sierra is amplifying everything else.
After we are done, I guide her toward the door just as it opens, and Noah steps in.
His eyes go straight to Sierra, taking her in like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her. There’s guilt and regret in his expression. The same ones I saw yesterday when he finally came to see her.
For a moment, I think Aunt Ivy is going to throw a fit against him being here, but she doesn’t. I guess her worry overshadows her dislike for Noah.
“Are you ready?” he asks. His voice is steady, but there’s a tightness beneath it.
I nod. “Yeah. We’re done p>
He doesn’t say anything; he just moves so fast I barely see him. One second, he’s by the door; the next, he’s pulling Sierra out for my hands. He then helps Sierra sit on the wheelchair.
Once she’s seated, Noah pushes her out of the room while Aunt Ivy and I follow behind him with bags.
We walk past the nurse station. They tell us goodbye, wishing Sierra a quick recovery, but she doesn’t even spare them a glance. She faces forward, her eyes staring at nothing.
When we get to the car, Noah opens the back door and places Sierra on the seat and once she and Aunt Ivy are settled in, he folds the wheelchair, places it in the boot with the bags and then closes the door.
I take the seat on the passenger side, while Noah gets into the driver’s seat without a word.
The drive is quiet and I catch Noah glancing regularly at Sierra
I almost ask him why he decided to drive us when his eyes and focus were on Sierra, but I don’t. I can’t blame him. We are all worried about her and it’s natural for him to keep checking on her.
Sierra, on the other hand, doesn’t move the entire ride. Doesn’t look out the window, doesn’t shift in her seat, doesn’t acknowledge anything around her. She just sits there, her hands resting loosely on her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond anything we can see.
By the time we reach the airport, my chest feels tight. Tight with hope and fear. Hope that this will work and fear that it won’t.
We get out of the car, and once again Noah helps Sierra onto the wheelchair.
His men, who were following behind us, take our luggage and follow behind us while Noah wheels Sierra towards the private jet waiting for us.
We get there and find everyone already waiting for us.
The moment we step into the field, the twins spot us.
“Aunt Sierra!” Nova calls, breaking into a run and Nolan is right behind her, his face lighting up as they rush toward us.
They come to stop before her and then wrap their arms around her carefully, mindful of her wounds.
“We missed you,” Nova says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Nolan nods eagerly and presses a kiss on her other cheek. “Yeah, we did p>
Sierra looks at them, her eyes focused on them like they’re the only people she sees, and maybe they are, because they’re the only ones who seem to reach her.
They cling to her like glue, their small voices filling the space and clearing the atmosphere around us.