Dominique sat on the small couch in the corner of the hospital room, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He watched Hazel and Bella from across the room, his eyes narrowed and his heart heavy.
Hazel was holding Bella's hand.
Hazel never held anyone's hand. She was distant, guarded, and careful with her touch. But here she was, her fingers wrapped around Bella's wrist, her eyes soft, and her body relaxed.
Dominique didn't understand.
He had been there for her. He had followed her to a waterfall. He had carried her through the woods. He had introduced her to his mother, arranged her surgery, and sat in the waiting room for hours. And she had never looked at him the way she was looking at Bella.
What witchcraft did Isabella possess?
He watched Hazel blink at Bella, slow, trusting, almost childlike. Her bandaged face was turned toward Bella like a flower toward the sun.
Dominique's eye twitched.
