The door creaked open.

Ava stirred slightly in her sleep, still curled beside Lily’s hospital bed, her arm draped protectively across her sister’s frail frame. The soft glow of the room’s overhead light caught the tired lines beneath her eyes.

Damien walked in quietly, a take-out coffee cup in each hand. He paused when he saw her head resting against the edge of the mattress, her long hair falling over her face, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He just watched her, something unreadable flickering across his usually impenetrable gaze.

He set the cups down on the side table, then crouched...