Page 60 of Redeeming the Villain
She looks back at Alora, and her face falls. “Alora? Are you okay?”
My head whips toward her.
She’s suddenly gone pale, the rosiness from her cheeks out of sight. Blinking rapidly, she takes a few slow steps toward the sitting room behind me.
“What’s happening right now?” Griffin asks, genuinely concerned.
Blair rushes to her side and hooks an arm around her waist, helping her walk. “Griffin, get me a glass of water right now, please.”
My heart starts to race.
Blair stumbles forward, and in a split second, I realize what’s happening.
Lunging forward, I reach out and catch Alora in my arms as she collapses toward the ground.
My heart jumps into my throat, and an aching-choking sensation wraps around my neck.
Scooping her legs up, I cradle her against my chest.
“What’s happening? Blair?!” I shout at her, panic raking through my body like hot coals.
“Take her to the couch and lay her down,” she instructs me with odd calmness. “She’ll be okay. She’ll wake up in a second.”
Striding as long as my legs can manage, I gently carry her into the living room and lay her down on the navy-blue sofa.
Blair throws a pillow at me from the other couch, followed by another. “Put them under her legs.”
“Okay.” I do as told, my palms sweating as I drop to my knees on the side of the sofa, my anxiety at an all-time high.
Brushing her hair from her face, I lift her head up slightly, not wanting her to choke on her spit when she comes to.
“Blair,” I call out, “why are you acting like this is so normal?” I demand her answer, a beat of anger pulsing behind my words that she hid something like this from me.
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You really don’t know? You went to school with her,” she says in disbelief. “You’ve seen Sunny, her dog How have you not put two and two together, youidiot?”
“Know what?” I whisper, racking through the memories in my mind for things that align with this. “She never passed out in school.”
“She probably just did a really good job of hiding it. I don’t think she had Sunny until after graduation.”
Griffin walks in with a glass of water.
“She has POTS—postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I mumble, an odd sensation of guilt sweeping over me. “What is it? What does it do?”
“It affects her heart.” Her words rush past her lips. “Malik,nowis not the best time for a study session, okay? Just take a breath.”
Cupping her cheeks, I take a shuddering breath.
“Blair,” I whisper, and her gaze softens. Something breaks in my chest, pain radiating outward. “Did … did I do this?”
She hesitates, and her hesitation gives me enough of an answer to dig the knife deeper in my chest. “It’s complicated. But stress can elevate her symptoms, yes.”
“Fuck.” I force the word out with my sharp exhale, my hands threading into the sides of my hair.
When I glance down at Alora, her eyelids flutter open slowly. She blinks, her stare blank.
Taking slow, deep breaths, she mumbles, “W-water.”
