The Expansion of the Universe

Twenty-One | "I'll need to tell him, eventually."

When Liza came back to consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the wet, velvety skin nuzzling her cheek.

"I'm okay, Milo," she reassured her dog, though the scratchiness in her voice did not make it seem as though she truly was "okay." Blinking her eyes open, she grimaced as the light attacked her pupils, waiting until she was used to the brightness before taking in her surroundings.

She was still on the couch, only, now she was sideways, with an arm and leg hanging off the side. Her mouth felt dry, as it often did when she suffered a panic attack or a sudden fainting spell.

"Liza?"

Her eyes snapped sideways, until they landed on her computer, which showed a concerned Whitney watching her closely. "I'm glad to see you awake," the older woman sighed. "I was worried I might have to call 9-1-1."

"Don't!" Liza cried before she could stop herself, the very thought of having strangers invade her home and drag her to a hospital—God, not a hospital—sending her nearly spiraling into another attack.

"I won't," Whitney soothed. "I just needed to make sure that you were breathing. You've only been out for a few minutes."

Well, a few minutes was nothing compared to her past experiences with hours of unconsciousness.

Liza pushed herself upwards, her vision blurring and her stomach growing queasy with the sudden movement. Pausing, she settled a hand on the back of the couch and leaned forward, focusing on her breathing.

Whitney, having clearly realized what was happening, provided directions. "In and out slowly, Liza. One, in, two, three, four, out, five, six, seven, in, eight, nine, ten, out . . ." Only when Whitney reached twenty-seven did Liza finally straighten in her seat, turning to the camera and murmuring, "I'm good now, Whitney. Thanks."

A quick glance at her doctor's face showed Liza that the older woman did not believe her for even a second. "Liza, I know that news was hard to hear. What are you thinking?"

Well, that was a loaded question. What was she thinking?

She was scared. She was worried. She wanted Elijah. She wanted to call her mom, but that was also scary. Still, she was mostly focused on the reality that Carson Pierce clearly wanted to throttle her until she joined the rest of his son's victims in death. And she wanted Elijah.

She blurted those things to Whitney, and the woman quirked a tiny smile. "We will, of course, discuss Carson. However, I'd like to touch on the topic of Elijah for just a moment. Can you explain to me why you'd like him to be with you right now?"

The panic took a backburner to her sudden embarrassment. "Uh. Well. Um, I just . . . he . . ." she licked her lips, shifted, tugged at her sweater again, and looked at Milo pleadingly, as though he could help her.

Her dog simply licked her knee in a show of support.

"He gives good hugs," she breathed finally, her shoulders slumping as she realized she had no clue how to talk about him. Just as always, whenever Whitney brought up the topic of her neighbor and newest best friend, Liza had no clue how to express her care for the man. How was one meant to describe a person as important as Elijah Harris?

Whitney only looked on expectantly, and Liza grimaced inwardly, knowing the woman wanted more information. "He's just . . . he's safe, I guess. I know he won't harm me, and it's nice to get comfort from someone who can talk to me so openly."

When Whitney smiled this time, it was a bit larger and seemed more genuine (though, admittedly, it was hard to tell with the doctor). "He seems like a man with good intentions. Will you be discussing the accident with him?"