Chapter 15
ADAM
I only left the hospital long enough to shower, eat something vaguely edible, and take a three-hour nap that did little to ease my exhaustion.
Truth was? I didn’t want to leave him. The second I stepped into my house, I hated it. It was too quiet. Too empty.
Fletcher should’ve been here. Chattering about what to watch on TV. Giving me puppy-dog eyes for the last cookie. Flashing that impish-yet-innocent half-smile like he hadn’t just been on death’s doorstep.
Instead, he was laid up in a hospital bed, stitched and bruised and swathed in clean white bandages like my own personal mummy.
And I hated it.
Needing to be with him, I rushed back to the hospital before visiting hours could end for the day.
I returned to Fletcher’s room, my arms loaded with vending machine junk—apple juice boxes, trail mix, fruit snacks—as well as a couple of cat-themed adult coloring books.
I’d seen his eyes light up the last time we passed the store display of art supplies.
So maybe I wanted to spoil him a little.
When I walked in, he blinked at me through sleepy eyes, and for a split second, I saw something flicker across his face. Guilt? Maybe a bit of confusion? Like he wasn’t sure he deserved to see me again.
Why would he feel guilty? He didn’t ask to be attacked. Those bastards had left him bleeding in the street, and yet he looked like he was the one who needed to apologize.
I didn’t ask about it. No need to pick fresh scabs off of newly-healing wounds.
I sat down in the chair beside his bed and piled the stack of goodies on his little plastic hospital tray. His eyes widened. He glanced first at the treats and then at me.
“You brought all this for me?” His voice sounded impossibly small, and right then, I wanted to wrap him up in my arms, hold him close and tell him everything would be okay.
Instead, I said, “Of course, Fletch. I know how bad hospital food is.” Giving him a wink, I fiddled with one of the apple juice boxes, unwrapping the straw before poking it through the tiny foil hole. Juice dripped out of the straw and onto my hand, so I licked it off. “Mmm, tasty.”
I handed it to him and his entire face melted into a look of pure joy. He took the juice box in both hands and sucked it down until the carton collapsed.
Then he giggled, soft and airy. “Thank you…”
“You’re very welcome. I brought you some coloring books and a pack of colored pencils, too,” I said, gesturing to the art supplies.
He bit down on his lower lip, his lashes lowering, fanning his pale cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I said. “But I wanted to, so I did. You want to color together?” I reached over and flipped through one of the books, showing off all the cool cat pictures he could fill in. My chest tightened with emotion when Fletcher’s eyes filled with tears.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“You saved my life…” he uttered.
“And I’d do it a hundred times over,” I promised, reaching over to lace my fingers through his. I gave them a gentle squeeze. “As soon as you’re better, you’ll come home and everything will be okay again. I’ll install better security. Those assholes won’t get another chance to hurt you, I promise.”
I watched his throat work as he swallowed before finally nodding. “Thank you.”
Then he took one of the books, flipped to a picture of a cute tiger-striped cat with sunglasses and a boombox, and grabbed a yellow pencil.
I smiled and grabbed a coloring book of my own. “Let’s get to work.”
I stayed as long as they let me. Every night I left reluctantly, and every morning I returned like I hadn’t slept a wink. Maybe I hadn’t.
The manor felt all wrong without him. Off-kilter. Like I was walking around missing a piece of myself.
It was foolish. In the grand scheme of things, we’d only known each other few months. He was a homeless stray I’d picked up off the streets like some wayward kitten. I had no claim to him, no right to feel this damn possessive over an Omega I shouldn’t even want.
But tell that to my wolf.
The longer he stayed in that hospital bed, the more agitated I became. Every time a nurse touched him, I tensed. One of them, a tall man with roaming hands, got a little too casual adjusting Fletcher’s bandages, and I growled before I even realized it. A low, teeth-baring growl.
The nurse backed off. Fast.
I didn’t apologize.
I just sat back down and took Fletcher’s hand, while he stared at me in shock and awe of what had just happened. I looked into his olive-green eyes and smiled. “I’ll take care of you,” I said.
And I meant it.
Three days passed like molasses. And then finally, they released him.
When one of the nurses brought up a wheelchair, I declined it. Both Fletcher and the nurse looked confused, but I waved them off. Then I picked Fletcher up like he weighed nothing at all and carried him out of the hospital like the big, bad wolfy badass that I was.
If he wanted to protest, he didn’t; he only squeaked and wrapped his arms tightly around my neck, as if afraid I might drop him and injure him further.
No way in hell.
I carried him out to where my car was parked, then carefully tucked him into the passenger seat. Making sure his belt was secure, I walked around the front and got in, put the key in the ignition, and drove off towards home.
Fletcher was quiet the entire ride. It wasn’t until we pulled into my driveway that he broke his silence, peering over at me from beneath his fringe of overgrown coppery-red bangs.
“Adam,” he murmured, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m okay. Really. I can walk.”
“Yeah?” I said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Too bad I’m not letting you.”
Before he could object, I scooped him up in my arms and carried him inside. He felt warm and solid against my chest, yet fragile at the same time.
He tried again when we reached the hallway. “Seriously. I’m not dying.”
I paused outside my bedroom door and looked down at him, something catching in my throat. The truth was sharp as glass.
“You scared me,” I said quietly. “I keep seeing you on the ground, covered in blood and bite marks. You weren’t moving, Fletcher. I thought—” My voice cracked. “Just let me take care of you. Please.”
He blinked up at me, his lips parting like he might speak, but no sound came out. After a moment, he gave a small nod and leaned back against me once more.
I pushed the door open with my hip and carried him inside, settling him down gently on the bed.
He looked around, confused. “Isn’t this your room?”
“Master bath’s in here,” I said, like it was the obvious choice. Which it was, but not for that reason.
The truth was, I needed him close. Not for convenience. For my own sanity. The idea of him down the hall, out of reach, alone? It made my skin crawl. It made my wolf thrash back and forth inside my skull, raising hell like a beast scorned.
He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t argue.
I brought him dinner in bed that night—tomato soup and grilled cheese, nothing too fancy—and we watched whatever dumb reality show was on.
When it was time to sleep, I changed into my PJs and climbed into bed beside him, cautiously, not wanting to startle him.
He tensed, like he wasn’t sure what to do with me being so close. “I’m okay, Adam,” he murmured, his eyes still on the screen. “Really. I’ll heal.”
But all I could see was his body flayed open again. All I could feel was his blood on my hands and that terrified, glassy look in his green eyes. He’d already suffered more than anyone should ever have to. And I didn’t want him to suffer another second.
My heart was getting tangled in this beautiful, soft-hearted Omega and honestly? I didn’t care what my parents wanted anymore.
My wolf wouldn’t rest unless we were touching. Unless I knew he was safe and sound, and everything was okay.
“I know,” is all that I said.
Eventually, Fletcher shifted against me, his head resting against my chest.
And then, like a miracle, he relaxed. I felt the tension bleed from his body, his nerves dissolving into sleep. His breath evened out. His fingers curled slightly in my shirt.
And there it was.
This strange, soul-deep feeling of right. Of home.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He had no idea what he was doing to me.
But lying there with him cradled to my chest, I finally understood the one thing I hadn’t been ready to admit.
I wasn’t just falling for him.
I already had.