Sullivan jerked awake. “She okay?”
“Don’t know yet. She’s asking for me.” Brooks headed for the door. “Go home, Chief. Get some sleep. I’ll call when I know more.”
“You should sleep too.”
“I will. Once I see her.”
The nurse led him through sterile corridors to a private room at the end of the hall. Before he reached the door, it opened and a woman stepped out—mid-thirties, with the same gray-green eyes as Vivienne but darker hair cut in a practical bob. She wore jeans and a fleece jacket, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
Dawn. Vivienne’s cousin stopped when she saw him, her expression shifting from grief to something harder. Protective.
“Detective Harrington.”
“Ms. Hawthorne.” Brooks kept his voice neutral. “How is she?”
“Physically? She’ll heal. Bruised ribs, cuts, possible concussion.” Dawn crossed her arms. “But you’re asking the wrong question.”
“You’re right, I am. Where were you when she was kidnapped?”
Dawn’s smile faded. “I was on my way back to my house.”
Brooks waited for her to continue. Dawn signed. “Her abilities exhaust her. I can’t be here all the time to run interference. This trait our family has, it takes a lot of self-control. Don’t use her to advance your career.”
“I would never.”
“You will because it’ll become easy,” she said. “My cousin has spent nineteen years terrified she’ll end up like her mother. She’s built her entire life around managing her gift, keeping it controlled, never pushing too hard. Tonight she pushed harder than I’ve ever seen. For you.”
Brooks’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask her to?—”
“She did it anyway. Because that’s who Vivienne is. She’ll burn herself out trying to save people.” Dawn’s eyes pinned him. “My grandmother saw something in you when you were a kid. Said you’d be Vivienne’s anchor. But anchors are supposed to keep ships from drifting into dangerous waters, not drag them into storms.”
The words hit harder than Brooks expected. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying tread carefully with her heart, Detective. She’s already halfway in love with you—I can see it. And if you’re not prepared to be what she needs, if you’re still running from whatever happened in Texas, then you need to walk away now. Before she gets hurt worse than any kidnapping could manage.”
Brooks met her gaze. “I’m not running anymore.”
“Good. Because Vivienne doesn’t have anyone else who understands what she can do. Our family’s small, and most of them ran from the gift like my father did. I stayed, but I don’t have it—not really. Just enough to know when something’s wrong.” Dawn’s expression softened slightly. “Sheneeds someone who can handle what she is without being afraid of it. Someone who won’t ask her to be less than she is.”
“I would never?—”
“I know. I can see that too.” Dawn glanced back at the hospital room door. “She’s asking for you. That means something. Don’t make her regret it.”
She walked past him toward the elevators, leaving Brooks standing in the hallway with her warning ringing in his ears.
Halfway in love with you.
Was it true? And if it was, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?
Brooks took a breath, steadied himself, and knocked softly before entering.
Vivienne sat propped against pillows, an IV in her left arm, her right wrist bandaged. Someone had cleaned the blood from her face and given her a hospital gown. She looked small in the bed, younger than thirty-six, and exhausted in a way that went bone-deep.
But when she saw him, she smiled.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Brooks pulled a chair close to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
