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She laughed and went off as I stepped closer to Jess’s door, peering through the window to see Jess leaning her head on Prism’s shoulder and smiling.
My heart clenched. God, I loved her. For so damn long.
I always planned to make her mine. And now she was.
But it was a lie.
A lie I was now trapped in because telling her the truth was a risk to her health that I wasn’t willing to take.
12
Jess
Butterflies erupted in my stomach the second Ben stepped back into the room, their fluttering wings increasing in speed at the sight of the single-minded determination on his face. His stride was graceful but commanding, so much so that Matt stood from the mattress and moved to the side as he drew closer.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, prickling with worry that the doctor did in fact tell him some heinous news.
“No,” he deadpanned without pause and slid his arms under me.
I gasped, reaching to steady myself as he hauled me off the bed. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Taking you to the bathroom so you can put on some damn pants.”
My lips parted in surprise. “Seriously? That’s what this is about? I thought he told you I was dying!”
“You aren’t dying. I forbid it.” His voice was gruff. Over his shoulder, he called, “P, give me a hand with her foot.”
Matt walked around to the other side of the bed and gently tugged away the corner of the sling, which was stuck to my cast. When it was gone, my foot dropped like dead weight, and Matt moved fast, catching it before it could hit the bed. Even so, it hurt, and I hissed as pain shot up my leg.
“Easy,” Ben cautioned, tightening his arms around me before sliding the handles of the duffle bag over his wrist and palming the IV pole to bring it with us.
“I’m too heavy for this,” I argued as he carried me and all my accessories across the room.
He scoffed like my words were too ridiculous for any sort of reply. But then a heartbeat later, he gave a quiet one anyway. “Feels pretty right to me.”
My gaze whipped to his face, but he avoided my stare. It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need to see the look in his eyes because his words were enough to set the butterflies beneath my ribs wild once more.
“I got the door,” Matt offered, pulling it open so we could go straight into the adjoining bathroom.
“You’re my hero, P,” he quipped, the light flickering on automatically when he stepped into the small space.
I peeked over Ben’s shoulder to Matt, and he winked. I giggled lightly, and Ben glanced at me, his face darkening. His feet squeaked on the polished floor with the abrupt stop, and then he walked a few paces backward to pull the door closed with an audible click.
“Stop smiling at everyone,” he grumbled.
“What?”
He ignored the question, eyes roaming the options where he could put me down. I saw him eyeing up the toilet, which had no lid, and I shook my head adamantly.
“Do not even think about sitting me on that germ-infested hole in the floor,” I warned.
“You mean this germ-infested hole?” he mused, going toward it like he was indeed going to sit me on the seat.
I shrieked, locking both my arms around his neck to cling. The action caused a bolt of pain to shoot from my temple into my neck, and I stiffened with a low whimper.
He cursed quietly and gingerly set me on the counter. His warm palms cupped my face, holding it so he could sweep the whole of his gaze over me, studying every inch like I was homework and he had an exam.
“Where’s it hurt?” he cajoled. The secret quality the tone embodied made me sway closer.
