Chapter 87

Drake’s POV

She shrugged weakly. “I tried.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She didn’t argue. That told me enough.

I walked into the kitchen and took stock. There wasn’t much, but there was enough. I rolled up my sleeves automatically, movements efficient, practiced. I filled a pot with water, set it to boil, and started on something simple. Nothing heavy. Nothing that would upset her stomach further.

The kitchen felt foreign but familiar at the same time. I worked quietly, listening for any sound from the living room. Every few seconds, I glanced back to make sure she hadn’t collapsed.

When the food was ready, I carried it out carefully and set it on the table in front of her.

“Try,” I said. “Just a little.”

She looked at the bowl like it might attack her.

“I don’t think—”

“I know,” I interrupted gently. “Just a few bites.”

She lifted the spoon with trembling fingers, brought it halfway to her mouth, then stopped. Her