Page 16 of Beautiful Defiance

9

SEVEN

Istay with her, leaving the room only to use the bathroom and to get something to eat from the cafeteria. The next evening, they discharge her with a week’s worth of antibiotics.

The color is back in her face, but she isn’t steady on her feet. What’s also returned is her defiance. Leigh put up a good fight, not wanting to be taken out in a wheelchair to my truck.

But when she swayed as the nurse helped her dress, she conceded. Thank fuck she cooled her defiance long enough for me to get her ass in my ride.

When we arrived at the Stevenson’s place, I opted for the shorter route to Leigh’s place. I park my truck alongside the property line, carry her in my arms, and carefully get us over the low-lying fence.

She buries her face in my hair, and every cell in my body comes to attention, same as it did last night. Last night, she’d tossed and turned in her hospital bed. Sometime around two in the morning, she broke her fever. The nurses were kind enough to change out the damp sheets for fresh ones.

While they did, I held Leigh in my arms. Her breathing was rhythmic, a sign to come that she’d fall fast asleep, hopefully more soundly this time. Me, on the other hand, my breathing was shallow and labored. It was sheer torture holding Beautiful Defiance’s body close to mine.

I make my way down the hill, careful not to run into the whimpering stray dog, the sharp piece of metal, or the damn tractor. The things that attacked Leigh in her imagination. Yeah, I’m being sarcastic as fuck.

“Doing okay?” It boggles my mind that a man as smart as Thomas would have a guesthouse built at the bottom of two steep hills.

“Yes, thank you.”

Before Leigh went to the medical unit, the emergency room doctor delivered the double whammy. Not only did Leigh have a festering infection in her leg, but she had the beginnings of pneumonia from aspirating pool water.

Finally, we’re at the front door. I pride myself in not huffing and puffing from carrying her the distance. Not that she’s a load of bricks or anything. Leigh is light. Skinny. Needs more meat on her bones.

“Where to? Bedroom? Couch?”

“Bedroom,” she says, her voice scratchy.

I walk us inside the bedroom.

“Are you up to eating something?” It’s after six.

By the time I ran down to the hospital pharmacy for her medicine, only to wait for Leigh to be done with defying the nurse’s suggestion she be wheeled out, her discharge was delayed by two unrelated things.

One, a patient in the next room spiraled downhill and a code was called overhead. Soon after, there was a fuck load of commotion. Fifteen minutes later, a patient across the hall from us went bonkers, and security had to be called.

We stayed in Leigh’s room behind closed doors until the yelling stopped and Leigh’s nurse returned. Yeah, that was our action for the day.

She holds on to my shirt and rests her head in the crook of my neck. Her hair is soft on my skin, and her puff of warm breath does crazy things to my junk. I mentally tell my excited dick to calm the fuck down. This isn’t the time to be at full mast.

“Soup would be nice,” she says, bringing my mind back to the topic of getting her fed. “Whatever they have at the Soup Kitchen. I’ll pay you back.”

“No need. My treat.”

“Thanks, Seven.” She slips off her shoes and crawls under the covers. “Don’t forget the house key.”

Good thing she reminded me. I would’ve forgotten. I leave and lock the door behind me. Inside my truck, I check my messages. There are a shit ton of them from the guys.

Something to the effect of coach benching me if I miss another practice. And why the hell did I miss practice? The team and the school are counting on me to be a leader. Who wants to follow a loser? This from Malice. Screw him.

Leigh being sick is none of their business. But that pneumonia of hers . . . I’m gonna kick Henry’s ass the next time he shows his face in Cambridge.

No one messes with a girl to the point she goes in and out of consciousness and has to be admitted to the hospital. Also, whoever fucked up Leigh’s face, I’ll be looking for that asshole too.

I send the guys a text. “See ya tomorrow, fuckers.”

Short. Sweet. No weakness. Top of my game. Their leader. I don’t wait for a reply. A girl’s counting on me to get her food.

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