Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(24)

When I bent over to push down the footrests, I saw Jude moving forward to help, but I shooed him away with a wave of my hand. He wasn’t working, and I definitely was not as frail as I appeared.

“Nope,” he answered, taking a step behind me. His hands brushed the skin of my shoulder as he moved to grip the handlebars.

He took a step forward, and he propelled me down the hall.

“What do you mean, nope?”

“As in, nope, not telling you.”

I muttered a curse and heard him let out a small laugh as we passed by the nurses’ station. He stopped briefly to let them know that he was taking me for a while. He leaned against the counter as he spoke in low whispers, telling the nurses of our secret destination. His arms bulged against the weight of his upper body, and I eyed several of his dark tribal-looking tattoos that covered his left arm, as I listened to the sound of his low voice.

I noticed several of the single young nurses curiously watching me as he spoke. I suddenly grew uncomfortable under the attention. Having never attended school or social events with my peers, I didn’t know how to react to this kind of scrutiny. The desire to run and hide was growing with every passing second.

What is he saying to make them look at me like that?

Grace, who was just returning from down the hall, took one look at me and must have seen my distress. She briskly walked behind the nurses’ station before glancing in my direction and giving me a quick wink.

“Have y’all seen my ring yet?” she said loud enough for me to hear.

Girlish squeals followed.

I chuckled, knowing she’d purposely diverted the unwanted attention away from me.

I truly love that woman.

Luckily, Jude had mostly finished at the nurses’ station before the squeals erupted, and we made it to the elevator without any other inquisitive sets of eyes following us. He pressed the button, and we waited in slightly awkward silence.

“So, are you going to tell me now?” I finally said.

“Nope.”

I folded my arms against my chest and made an exasperated sigh.

He chuckled behind me. The elevator dinged, and the doors parted. He wheeled me around and backed both of us in, so we were facing forward.

“You have the patience of a gnat,” he said.

The door closed, and we headed downward.

“I have a great deal of patience.”

“Well, not today,” he said.

Then, I felt his hot breath against my ear as he bent down behind me.

“Or maybe it’s just me who ruffles those feathers of yours.”

“Um—“

I had no witty comeback, nothing to say that would equal what he’d just said, because he’d just rendered me speechless. I tried to compose myself, but all that came out was word garbage. His breath against my earlobe alone had reduced me to a mumbling mess of letters and syllables.

Why does his presence affect me so?

I’d grown up in the hospital. I’d spent my teenage years—the most vulnerable time of a young girl’s life—being poked, prodded, and exposed to countless people, including several men.

But no one had ever made my skin flush and my heart flutter the way he did.

It was something I’d never felt before—and also something I needed to forget.

Jude wasn’t for me.

He couldn’t possibly want a mess like me.

Besides, a life outside these hospital walls wasn’t something I could think about right now. Hope was an emotion that could give the smallest man the strength to move mountains. But if a man was given too much hope in a dire situation, that four letter word would suddenly crush him, weighing him down by the impossible belief that things would somehow get better when there was no chance in hell they ever possibly could.

Until I knew more about my transplant probability, I was staying far away from the idea of hope.

“I don’t have feathers,” I finally answered, finding my voice again.

“What?” he asked.

The elevator once again dinged, and the door opened. He pushed the wheelchair forward, and I took a look around, but all I saw was the same boring hallway that covered every floor. That wasn’t much of a clue.

“You said my feathers were ruffled. I don’t have wings. I’m not a bird,” I pointed out.

He pushed the wheelchair to a set of glass doors. I looked in and saw people in scrubs and regular clothes walking around, carrying trays.

We’re at the cafeteria? Is he buying me lunch?

I looked up and found green eyes staring down at me.

“Every angel has wings, Lailah,” he answered.

He pushed me through the double doors, and rather than finding a spot in the line with the rest of the folks waiting to grab a bite to eat, he took a turn toward the kitchen.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“Relax! We’re almost there,” he said from behind me with an amused tone. “Hey, beautiful,” Jude said, greeting someone.

My head flew up to see who he was addressing

Is he introducing me to his girlfriend? That would not be my idea of a fun afternoon.

An older woman, probably in her late sixties, with long silver hair twisted up into a complicated bun, looked up from the cash register and batted her eyelashes at Jude. “Hey, Puddin’,” she answered. “This your girl?” She glanced down at me with a wrinkled warm smile that reminded me of my late grandmother.