Within These Walls (The Walls Duet #1)(35)

I took a look at her cheeks. I’d mistaken the faint blush I saw earlier for nervousness or passion, but it wasn’t due to any emotion at all.

Lailah was running a fever.

I let out a puff of air as I prepared to be the bad guy.

She was definitely not going home tomorrow.





ANY SPECULATION AS to what was or was not going on between a certain CNA and me was made crystal clear when Jude’s dormant alpha tendencies came bubbling to the surface in a major way the second he felt my feverish skin. He’d flown out of my room and demanded the nurses call Dr. Marcus. I could hear him from my bed as he barked orders and expected immediate results.

The powerful surname he’d just revealed to me suddenly seemed fitting.

I should have been embarrassed. I should have been shrinking down in my hospital bed, rolling my eyes, and counting the minutes until the sound of his deep voice had quieted in the hall and I had the chance to chastise him for his overbearing behavior.

But I did none of that.

Instead, in my fever-induced fascination, I’d watched as he marched out of my room, his gait full of hurried purpose. I’d been listening as the deep timbre of his commands reminded me of the fight we’d had when I accused him of not caring. Then, I thought of the kiss that had followed.

He kissed me.

And now he’s taking care of me.

It turned out that over the next several hours, I’d need all the help I could get. The fever gave way to chills, which then transitioned into vomiting and cold sweats. I’d caught a virus that was aggressive and, of course, nonresponsive to antibiotics. The irony of living in a hospital was that it was actually one of the cleanest, germ-infested places to be. There were so many sick people all stuffed into one place. No matter how hard the staff tried to keep it clean, it was still a giant petri dish for bacteria and viruses.

Dr. Marcus told me this particular virus had to work its way through my system before I’d feel human again. Within a few hours of becoming feverish, I was convinced that it was trying to kill me.

The moment news of a fever spread, everyone entering my room slapped on a hospital mask, except for Jude.

For the remainder of his shift, he didn’t leave my side, and he stayed with me well past the time he’d clocked out. After his earlier heroic display, no one seemed willing to step up and argue with him about leaving, not even Dr. Marcus. Although, he didn’t look too pleased when he walked into my room to find Jude lying beside me on the bed.

I drifted off sometime around five in the morning after Jude had seen me at my absolute worst. He’d held my hair as I heaved and cried in the bathroom. Drying my tears, he had gotten me a glass of water and helped me back into bed, only to carry me back into the bathroom when the nausea and sickness started all over again. He never complained or seemed repulsed, but I guessed it was due to his job.

I just hadn’t wanted to be part of his job—or at least, not this part.

Vomiting mere hours after my first kiss wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured it.

Maybe an hour or two after falling asleep, I awoke, hearing the door snap shut. My eyes peeked open, and I peered over to find a sleeping Jude next to me. Sitting in the blue chair, his large frame was bent forward, and he was resting his head on his forearms.

Lifting my hand, I winced, remembering the IV that was now connected. Clear fluids were being pumped into my body to counteract the lack of food and water. I softly raked my hand through his hair, careful not to wake him. I heard a shuffle of feet, reminding me that the door had shut and awoken me moments earlier.

I turned to see my mother standing by the doorway, watching me. Her eyes were frozen on the man sleeping next to me while my fingers stood completely frozen in Jude’s unruly hair.

“Dr. Marcus didn’t call me until this morning,” she said softly, her gaze still fixed on Jude.

“It’s just a virus,” I said. “Rough night though.”

I watched as she took him in—his scrubs, the scrolling dark ink on his arms, and back to the place where my hand was resting in his hair. I started to pull my hand back, but I stopped myself.

You are an adult, Lailah, I chanted, as I willed my fingers to continue their previous path through Jude’s thick hair.

“And who is this?” she asked, her tone clipped and formal.

She wasn’t wearing a mask as well. Apparently, she wasn’t afraid of catching whatever I had either.

Jude stirred under my fingers, his hair falling into his eyes as sleep drained away. I turned away from my mother’s rigid stance by the entrance to see soft moss-colored eyes staring back at me.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Even though I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck, then dropped off the side of a bridge, and stomped on, I couldn’t help the grin spread across my lips.

“Morning.”

My mom made a sound in her throat, and I snapped back, sitting up further in bed. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

“Mom, this is Jude…” I looked at him, asking for permission.

He gave me a single nod as a go-ahead.

“Cavanaugh. He’s a nurses’ assistant here in the hospital, and we’ve become quite close,” I said, trying to muster up as much maturity as possible.

Speaking up to my mother was something I’d never mastered. Having her in front of me always made me feel small and weak.