Page 80 of Reclaiming Adelaide

We had a deal. A deal Adelaide still didn’t know about. I wanted to keep her safe. She didn’t understand how much I wanted that. Maybe because I told her I wasn’t protecting her, which was the furthest thing from the truth.

She’d scared me like I’d never been scared before, and I knew the moment they wheeled her body beyond the double doors and left me out in the empty waiting room that I couldn’t be without her. Never again.

I didn’t understand those feelings. Not yet. For now, I had to keep her safe and find Holeo… but most importantly, I would keep hersafe.

Adelaide laid curled into a ball on the bed, her eyes darting back and forth beneath her closed lids as she did what I’d instructed—rest. She wasn’t asleep by any means, but at least she’d complied with my request—that was something.

Flashbacks hit me from her stint in a medically induced coma as they regulated her temperature. For the first twelve hours, my heart stopped beating, unsure if hers would continue.

It was the first time since my parents died that I’d feared death.

Even though death was a friend to me, I’d had that inescapable terror he’d come calling for her, which had me holding her tighter, watching her longer, and caressing her hair while she slept.

But now, she rambled about Yervant slipping into her room. It couldn’t have been them. They wouldn’t back out of our deal when I was so close to finding Holeo.

I glanced at my phone as a knock sounded at the door, and nurse Maddy walked in with a handful of papers. I placed my finger to my lips as Adelaide jerked and Maddy slowed, taking lighter steps through the room.

“Glad to see she’s getting some rest.” She handed me her release form as I stood from my chair.

“I’m not sleeping,” Adelaide said, keeping her eyes closed and her hand latched around the bed rail.

Maddy smiled and pointed toward the papers. “This is all the information you’ll need for at-home care,” she whispered. “The doctor recommends coming back if her condition changes or you note any confusion, trouble speaking, or lack of consciousness again. Do you have any questions?”

“No.” I shook my head and dropped the paperwork on my lap.

“Okay, well, you are free to go anytime.”

She turned and walked out of the room, tossing the curtain to the side as she passed through.

One less thing to worry about. Now we could get her home where she can rest, and her parents can see her.

I’d kept in contact with them, giving them updates each time Linda called or if there was anything I felt was worth mentioning. Convincing them to stay home and not grab the first flight out was challenging, but I’d told them she was in excellent hands—my hands—and I’d let them know if anything changed.

Adelaide sat up as I stood from my chair, her arms stretching over her head. “Can we go now?”

I bent over and rubbed my thumb against her freckled cheeks where her long lashes touched her face. She exhaled through her nose, her warm breath steady against my wrist. My thumb moved to her supple bottom lip, missing how it felt against mine.

Clearing my throat, I wiped the nostalgia cloud from my vision and brushed her hair with my fingertips as her gaze fluttered up to mine. “Yeah. We can go.”

I helped her out of bed and slipped her shoes onto her feet.

“Home. To my parents?”

“You’ll stay at my place, but your parents want to see you. They can meet us there.”

Adelaide stood, taking the papers I handed her, then wrapped my arm around her waist and stepped out of the room.

“Wait.Um,” Maddy said as she rounded the nurse’s station. “Hospital policy says we have to wheel you out. Just in case something were to happen.”

I waved her off and pressed the button with the blue handicapped drawing. “Hospital policy is not my policy.”

“I insist.”

“So do I. Thanks for your care, Maddy.”

We walked through the automatic door and to the elevator, where we waited for a couple to exit, then stepped inside.

“I can walk, you know,” she said, leaning into me, her voice fragile yet strong.

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