Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(10)

Changing her sheets?

No, dumbass, she’s in them.

Heard a noise and just coming to check things out?

Yeah, okay. That could work.

Never mind the fact that I was the one making the noise.

Five seconds passed by as I stood in the shadows like a statue, my ears on high alert as I waited for any movement that might signal my need for a cover story.

But nothing happened—no movement, no screaming or shouting.

So, I continued with my weird late-night mission. That was what guys with nothing else to do did at night, right? Delivered pudding to hospital rooms in the dark?

Totally normal.

Pulling the small little snack pack out of my pocket, I carefully dropped it along with the plastic spoon on the wooden tray table next to her bed. I wasn’t sure if eating the pudding with her finger was a chosen thing or not. Everyone had their quirks, so I figured I’d give her the option. Hygiene was an awesome thing, especially in a hospital.

The moonlight from the window lit up the wisps of her hair, making it appear as if a golden halo surrounded her face. She looked innocent, yet a wisdom beyond anything I’d seen seemed to shine through her very pores. I wanted to reach out and touch a single strand just to see what angel hair would feel like between my fingers.

Instead, I turned away. I’d done enough loitering for tonight.

Much quieter this time, I stepped lightly to the door. I reached for the doorknob and turned it slightly before making my exit.

Then, a light voice behind me uttered, “You were definitely not on my list.”

Busted.

Knowing there was little I could do to escape, I stuck my hands in my pockets and pivoted around on my heels. I found her very much awake. Sitting up in bed in a loose T-shirt and shorts, she assessed me quietly with her knees pulled into her chest.

“Your list?” I asked., turning to flip the switch on the wall that turned on the overhead light. Standing in the dark while she was awake now felt awkward and weird.

“Yeah, I made a suspect list of those with the greatest probability of being the person behind the pudding drop-offs. You were definitely not on it. Huh, I’m not wrong very often,” she said with a bit of surprise.

“How does that feel?”

“What?”

“Being wrong.”

“Oh…well, I kind of like it. It’s thrilling.” She gave a sheepish grin.

“So, who was on your list?” My hands still in my pockets, I took a few leisurely steps back into the room.

“Oh, um…well, there was my mom. She was almost immediately taken off. She leaves too early. She teaches morning classes now. She didn’t used to because she would teach me in the morning, but obviously, that’s not a problem since I’m not in high school anymore, and—oh, wow, I’m babbling.”

“So, you didn’t go to school?” I took a seat in the tired, worn-looking chair in the corner, hoping that it would calm her nerves.

She looked down and fiddled with her fingers a bit. “No, never. I was homeschooled.” she answered slowly. “My mom teaches at a local community college. She used to be a professor at UCLA, but when I started kindergarten, she decided to give up her position as chair of the religious studies department. Instead, she taught nights, so she could be home during the day. I always hated that she gave up the career she’d worked so hard to obtain just to teach algebra and American history to me throughout the years, but she never seemed to mind—or at least, she never showed it. My grandmother filled in at night when I was younger, and then after she died, a nurse helped,” she said the last part quietly.

“Who else was on the list?” I asked, moving her away from a topic I had a feeling was rough for her.

“Grace,” she answered.

“Who?”

“Grace. She’s a day nurse. She has long black hair and wears Disney and Hello Kitty scrubs even though she works nowhere near pediatrics.”

“Oh, you mean Snow White?” I asked.

She snorted, and it made me smile. No one I’d known back home would ever snort in public. It was a good, honest sound.

“That’s a good nickname for her. It’s perfect.”

“I didn’t come up with it. One of the other guys around here did. He said he heard her singing, and he swore that birds were flocking to the window to listen. So, from then on, she became Snow White.”

“She loves to sing. But I figured out it wasn’t her either. So, that left Abigail.”

“Oh, Nash’s granddaughter? I’ve seen her around. She’s sweet, but she’d never share pudding with you. Kids don’t share pudding snacks,” I said with a small grin.

“That’s a good rule to live by,” she answered quietly before asking, “How’s the knee?”

My eyes flew up to hers in surprise. “You were awake?”

She nodded. “How else did you think I was going to figure out the secret identity of my pudding delivery person?”

“Hmm…smart woman.”

“Glad you noticed.”

“Do all smart women eat pudding with their fingers?” Leaning back in the chair a bit further, I arched my eyebrow in question.

Her mouth fell open in embarrassment. “Oh my God, you saw that?”

A brief nod and a slight grin that I couldn’t contain were my only answers.