Page 39 of Rebel Moon

I got up and hobbled to the door with my crutches.

“Good morning.” Madeleine had a take-out box in her hand. “I brought you breakfast.”

I stepped back to let her inside. “Morning, come on in.”

“They found you crutches?” She placed the food box on the table next to the pile of scones. It smelled of bacon and fried potatoes.

“Luci had Doctor Moon send these over.”

“How many Moons are there?”

“That’s what I wanted to know. Apparently, the answer is five.”

She looked down at my half-wrapped ankle. “That doesn’t look quite right.”

“I was trying to get it back to the way Luci did it, but I’m not having much luck.”

“Come, sit. I’ll do it for you.”

I sank into the leather chair. She pulled the ottoman close and gently placed my foot into her lap. “The swelling looks much better. Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah, but not as much as last night.”

She made short work of the ACE bandage, wrapping it around my ankle until it was snug. “There we are. Did you eat already?” Madeleine asked, gesturing toward the scones.

“No. Rhett brought those over earlier, but I’m not hungry.” My appetite had vanished when Rhett walked out my door.

She tilted her head, my foot still in her lap. “What’s going on? Are you in pain? I can get you some pain killers.”

“Luci left some for me. It’s not that.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching me. “What is it? I can see something’s wrong.”

I sighed, letting my face fall into my hands.

“Rhett was here earlier. Did you two argue about me?”

How had she known that? “He saw you leave my cabin.”

“Oh, okay. Not great.”

“I know.”

“He had questions, I bet,” Madeleine said.

“He had a lot to say.”

“I’m sure he gave you a lecture about how risky it is—the two of us getting involved—because of the band. Am I right?”

“Sort of.”

I looked over at her. She looked so pretty, dressed in a soft blue sweater, her hair in a pony tail, just a whisper of makeup on her face. I’d never seen her relaxed before. It changed her entire persona. In fact, it made what I’d learned about her more plausible than I would have thought just days ago.

“He told me what you did,” I said. “With Wyatt Black. The tour.”

Her face drained of color. “Rhett told you that?”

“Actually, no. Blake Bennett told me when she was interviewing me yesterday.”