How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 734

She felt the warmth of his lips, a breath of cool, clean scent washing over her.

It crashed through her senses, overwhelming every rational thought.

Elodie froze, stunned. The anger that had been boiling in her head just moments ago ground to a halt, stuck in her throat.

She couldn’t process what had just happened, couldn’t even begin to fathom why Jarrod would do something like this, so suddenly.

Her eyes remained wide open—and so did his.

Jarrod didn’t miss a single flicker of her expression.

Before she could even react, his other hand had already reached out and tapped the screen, ending her call.

It wasn’t until Malcolm’s voice cut out in her ear that Elodie finally snapped out of it. Jarrod’s move had come out of nowhere, and by the time she’d gathered herself, all she could do was instinctively pull back a little.

“What are you doing?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she looked at him, more puzzled than upset.

It wasn’t as if this was some earth-shattering shock.

After all, things like this—

They’d done this countless times before.

But it had been so long, and things between them hadn’t exactly been smooth lately, so she couldn’t help but feel…

A strange, unexpected awkwardness.

After the question slipped out, she unconsciously reached up to wipe her lips with the back of her hand.

Jarrod’s gaze lowered. “Are you grossed out by me?”

Elodie’s hand paused. “Wasn’t it you who came at me out of nowhere?”

“So if I wasn’t so abrupt, you wouldn’t mind?” he pressed.

She just stared at him in silence. “Jarrod, what exactly are you playing at?”

He didn’t rush to straighten up. Instead, his eyes drifted downward as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. “Are those people really worth all this anger?”

He wasn’t wrong.

It was a pretty effective distraction.

It was better to take it out on him than to keep stewing over Malcolm.

“If running my mouth could somehow make you better, I’d do it all day.” His gaze lingered on her—she looked even thinner than before, her silk nightgown barely masking the sharp line of her spine. He clenched his fists in silence.

Being around Jarrod now felt oddly uncomfortable.

He was so painfully honest these days—she hadn’t learned how to handle it yet.

“Don’t worry about Malcolm. I’ll handle him.” Jarrod could see she didn’t want to talk about her illness, so he glanced at her phone, his eyes dark. “Whatever you’re worried about—it won’t happen. Nothing he says is worth your time.”

Truth was, hearing Malcolm talk to Elodie like that had made Jarrod angry, too.

He was already worried sick about her health, and now someone else was trying to upset her.

He wasn’t about to let that continue.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Elodie’s mind. She hesitated, then looked at him. “Did you hear about what happened with the Harcourt family?”

The question was vague, but they both knew what she meant.

Jarrod met her eyes. “I’ve brought in a team of specialists from overseas. They’re flying to Eldermere to consult with Dr. Elias Warwick. You’ll have the best possible treatment plan—and in two weeks, we can schedule surgery. Trust me. And trust yourself.”

This time, he would be right there with her.