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“That was a wild day, huh?”
“Sure was,” I say, downing the rest of the juice. Even with the big glass down, I’m still parched. “I was serious back at the hospital. I’ll find whoever did this, and I’ll make sure they understand the weight of their actions.”
“I know you will,” Isabella sets her glass down on a bedside table. She turns onto her side to look at me. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
I lean against the backboard. Sitting down and relaxing for the first time in hours. My body is aching and my bones feel as if they’re grinding together. If I’m not careful, I might doze off while talking to Isabella.
“How are you holding up?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer me straight away. After a little thought and deliberation, Isabella finally replies. “Better now that we’re home. Hospitals always make me extremely uncomfortable.”
“I get that. Haven’t been to one myself in years,” I can’t take my eyes off her. Not with the way she’s looking at me; wide, bright eyes, up to no good. “I’ve only gone to patcher-uppers, who’ve worked for the Braddock’s for as long as I can remember.”
“Are they any good?” she asks, genuine curiosity flooding her face.
“Nah, they’re terrible. But I’m not dead yet, so I can’t really complain?” We laugh together.
“Maddox, can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I scooch down on the bed. Every little action, making me more comfortable.
“Will you…” Isabella pauses. A burning question on the tip of her tongue but she’s fighting it. “Will you hold me? Just a little.”
Not the request I was expecting.
“When I was a little girl, my momma used to hold me when I felt bad. You’ve met my dad,” she snickers, but tears are already flooding her eyes. “He’s not the kind of man who gives physical affection. I just—”
“You don’t have to justify it,” I say, moving lower and sliding across the sheets towards Isabella.
She turns around so that her back is facing me. I get in close, wrapping an arm around her body and pulling her close. Isabella presses herself as far back as she can, creating a double S-shape between our bodies.
“Thank you,” she looks over her shoulder at me.
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m here to make this easier for you. Any way you want me to,” I say.
“Any way?”
“Yes,” I give Isabella a soft squeeze.
“Will you kiss me?” she asks next.
“If you want me to,” I reply.
Of course, I understand that Isabella’s emotions are high. In some way, doing anything at all might seem as though I’m taking advantage. But, in another way, I don’t believe that’s true. We’ve both been thrust into this peculiar relationship, and we’re both adults.
Enough with the overthinking. Live in the moment, Maddox.
It’s hard to remind yourself of that sometimes.
“Then do it,” she says.
Isabella spins around in my arms until she’s on her back. She doesn’t break my grip, and clutches my wrist in one hand. She leans towards me.
Your wish is my command.
I lean forward and press my lips against Isabella’s. It’s a gentle peck to start with but it is quickly transformed into a fiery embrace of dancing tongues. Isabella’s eyes fall shut, and her hand runs through my hair.
Soon, Isabella breaks our kiss. I expect it’s over, and that she’s realized her emotions are getting the best of her, so she’s putting a stop to it. The hand that glided through my hair, cups my cheek and she holds it there. She leans forward again, pressing her soft lips against my forehead. She looks at me. She doesn’t make any sudden movements. Then, out of the blue, she lifts the hand that I wrapped around her. She leans in again, for another embrace, bringing my hand onto her breast.
