Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(22)

“I was the worst cook on the face of the earth—at first,” he’d said. “But the more I tried, the better I became. Like a virgin, I was sloppy and clumsy to start, but I practiced, practiced, practiced! Then, bam! I became a natural!”

Nash always managed to take every story and relate it back to sex. I would call it some sort of gift, but really, I thought he was just a dirty old man.

“Hey, Nash,” I said, turning around.

“Yes, my quiet friend?”

“Could you help me plan a meal? I want to cook dinner with someone, but I seriously can’t cook shit.”

His lips turned skyward, and his expression warmed.

Thirty minutes later, I’d written out a ton of notes and gotten a bit of a headache from the amount of talking, but I had a meal and a plan.

I knew what I had planned would probably take far longer than the hour I was allowed for a lunch break, so the following day, I showed up at the hospital, dressed in my civilian clothes, and for once, I didn’t clock in. Instead, I headed down to the cafeteria, walking past the line of staff and visitors waiting to pay their tabs, and I gave Betty, the cafeteria lady, a quick wink. She blushed and puckered her lips, giving me a flirty air kiss back, as she waved me back through the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, I had mostly everything set up, and I was in the elevator on my way up to the cardiology unit. I anxiously tapped my foot as I waited for the floor number to light up and the sound to buzz, signaling the door was about to open.

I was edgy…or nervous.

I didn’t know. I was definitely something.

Twitchy with a touch of anxious maybe?

What if she hates it? What if something goes wrong, and she gets hurt? How much activity can she handle? Will I be overexerting her?

A million things were running through my mind when the elevator door finally opened, and I stepped into the familiar hallway. I wanted nothing more than to make Lailah’s life better. After everything I’d done to f**k it up, it was something I needed to do. I only hoped that by stepping into her world and becoming a part of her life, I wasn’t going to do more harm than good.

Maybe I should talk to Dr. Marcus first.

I made a quick stop at the nurses’ station, asking if I could borrow a wheelchair. Showing up off shift wasn’t normal for me. After a few odd looks from the rest of the staff, I secured my requested item, and I was on my way to Lailah’s room when I saw just the man I had been looking for.

Dr. Marcus was standing off in a corner, speaking intently with someone. His voice was low, but it was clear by the way his hands were moving and by the expression on his face that he was passionate about what he was trying to convey.

“Why do you always feel the need to be so independent, Molly?” he hissed.

“I will never depend on a man to take care of me ever again,” she threw back. Her arms folded across her chest in anger.

She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before. The light blonde hair and blazing blue eyes reminded me of someone, but blondes were a dime a dozen in Southern California. She could be anybody.

I tried to look away, aware I was eavesdropping on a personal conversation, but I’d never seen Dr. Marcus lose his cool before. He was what I would call, California chill—mild-mannered and always laid-back.

Right now, even though I could only make out part of his face from the corner I was standing in—okay, spying from—I could see that his eyes were wild, full of fire and heat.

“Do you think that’s all this is? Do you think all of this”—he made a gesture meant to encompass the two of them together—“was just so I could protect you? And Lailah, too?”

My eyes widened, and I pulled back further into the shadows, not wanting to give up my position now that I’d figured out he was talking to Lailah’s mother.

It was no wonder her platinum locks and petite frame seemed so familiar. Looking at her again, she bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. I’d never met Ms. Buchanan. I’d only heard about her from the few stories Lailah had told me. Most shifts, I usually didn’t come in until later in the evening, and she had normally left before I clocked in.

“No, I’m sorry. I know you care, Marcus,” she said, hesitantly touching his bicep as the anger began to ebb.

“I more than care, Molly.”

Someone rounded the opposite corner, and they pulled apart before saying a quick good-bye and turning in different directions. Lailah’s mother headed toward the elevator, and Dr. Marcus marched down the hall where I was standing. I started pushing the wheelchair again, trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, J-Man. Dressed up for work today?” Dr. Marcus asked as he approached.

He tried to cover up the sadness in his eyes with a smile, but it wasn’t working. I could still see it there, lingering behind those deep blue eyes. Pain recognized pain, and I’d been looking at the same set of eyes in the mirror for the last three years.

“I don’t clock in until tonight. I’m actually here to visit Lailah.”

A bit of surprise danced across his features. “Lailah? Really?”

“Yeah.”

I explained my plan to him, and he silently listened, watching me with the appraising eyes of a father figure. After I finished telling him the details, he grew still. I nervously stuck my hands in my pockets, waiting for some sort of reply. It seemed like an eternity of being looked at like I was one of those lobsters in a fish tank at a seafood restaurant.