Within These Walls (The Walls Duet #1)(64)

“I was so scared you were going to leave this hospital without me,” I confessed.

She looked up at me, confused. “Why? Because of that? You were put in an incredibly tough spot, Jude. I don’t fault you for that. But it’s over now. No more secrets. So, let’s get going already!”

Her beaming smile destroyed me.

No more secrets.

My raspy and pleading voice, the sound of my cries as I’d begged them not to do it, not to take her away from me—it all swiftly came back, making my head spin.

I was the biggest secret of them all.

“Here are your discharge papers,” Dr. Marcus said, holding his hand out to a wary-looking Lailah.

She’d been still and eerily quiet since the moment he’d walked in with instructions on her home care.

“We’ve done this many times before, so I feel like I’m repeating myself. I’m just going to tell you to be careful, Lailah. Take care of yourself. Don’t be overly ambitious and find yourself back in this room. You might not believe me, considering how protective your mother and I have been over the years, but I really do want you to have a life outside of here.”

She looked up at him from her position on the bed. Her legs were crossed, and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she considered what to say in response.

“Thank you…” she responded. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”

“How about Marcus? Can we start with that?”

She nodded, and I saw the briefest smile pass between her lips before she sobered once again.

“What exactly is going on between you and my mother?”

Marcus let out a lingering sigh as he leaned up against the wall. He looked tired. His salt-and-pepper hair that usually made him look suave and sophisticated now only served to accentuate the lines and dark circles under his eyes.

“The same thing that has been going on between us for twenty-two years. I get too close, and she pushes me away. She refuses to acknowledge that there’s anything between us, and I’m foolish enough to keep trying to convince her otherwise.”

“You love her,” she said softly, looking up at the man who could have been her father if things had been different, if life had been different.

“Every day since the first day I laid eyes on her,” he said with such conviction that it made my heart constrict in pain for him.

The CNA arrived, a guy I knew from the day shift, to help escort Lailah to the parking lot, and she stood, facing Marcus with uncertainty.

Finally, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “Don’t give up on her, Marcus.”

Heavy with emotion, his eyes squeezed shut as he held the girl he’d loved as his own. “I’ll never give up—on either of you.”

I gathered up Lailah’s belongings and helped her settle into the wheelchair. We said brief good-byes to Marcus, promising to check in once a week, and then we headed for the door.

“Jude?” Marcus called on our way out.

I turned and found him standing in the same spot by the bed, watching us leave.

“Take care of our girl.”

“I’ll guard her with my life,” I vowed.

“I know you will. Take care, J-Man.”

I caught up with Lailah, who was halfway down the hallway with the CNA, chatting about the beautiful weather. We made our way downstairs, and within three minutes, we were stepping outside.

I thanked the guy, glancing down at his name tag to catch his name, and I helped Lailah up from the wheelchair. “We got it from here, Adam,” I said before turning to Lailah with a wink.

She looked around, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of fresh air as it breezed past her.

“I’m free!” she squealed.

“Well then, why are we standing around and wasting time? Let’s get the hell out of here!” I laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her in the direction of my car.

“I’m sorry it’s not that great-looking, but it runs,” I said, regarding the less than stellar state of my car, which had probably seen more birthdays than she had.

“It’s green!” she exclaimed.

I threw her bags into the trunk. “Yep, split-pea, baby-shit green.”

“Eww…gross. Why did you have to ruin split-pea soup for me?” She laughed as we got in.

“Well, that is a color!”

“I think we should name it,” she declared.

I turned the key. “The color? I thought I just did.” I pulled out of the parking spot and drove the short distance out of the hospital.

We were officially free.

“No.” She laughed. “The car. Cars that are baby-shit green need to have a name.”

I turned my head with a look of mock surprise and shock. “Did I just hear you curse? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bad word leave those pretty little lips of yours before in my life. Two seconds out of the hospital, and you’re already swearing like a sailor! I think I’m having a bad effect on you.”

She stuck out her tongue and laughed. “I’ve cursed before—in my head and maybe once or twice out loud,” she said, grinning. “You’re changing the subject. From this day forward, I hereby do so-eth—”

“Do so-eth?” I couldn’t help but ask.