Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
EZRA
T he queue starts to form for med handout, and I purposefully hang back; not that I’ve ever willingly ingested any of the drugs they tout here at Blackwood. Cara is using Raven to shield her from Lenora, her shoulders relaxing when Simon ushers her out of the double doors.
Raven spots me and turns to Cara. “I need to do something…somewhere else,” she says cryptically.
“You can finish up, right?” she hollers back at Cara, already shooting off for the exit and being followed closely behind by Caleb and Cooper.
I suspect the ‘something’ is sex with the twins and ‘somewhere else ’ is the staff toilets.
I’ve never been accused of being a patient man, so waiting in line for my turn is out of the ordinary for me, but finally, I get what I came here for: Miss Cara Morgrieves - all to myself.
“And last but not least…” she says, chipperly scanning for a name not crossed off her list.
“Ezra Wolfe,” I finish for her as her gaze slowly tracks up to meet mine. I melt inside when I see the flush of heat bloom in her cheeks as she swallows hard. My cock stands to attention in my trousers, but thankfully, it’s hidden by the counter between us.
She nervously runs her finger down the page, chewing on her lip as she flips it over.
“There you are.” She strikes a red line through my name and holds a mini container out for me to take.
Rattling the pills inside it as invitation when I don’t immediately take it.
She looks around at the room as patients head out into the hallway and back to the main hall.
I lean forward on the counter, open my mouth and tip back my head, making sure to keep eye contact with her.
She’s not been here long enough to know this isn’t standard practice, so I take my chance.
I wonder if we can convince her we need a bed bath?
I don’t let the idea ruminate because imagining Cara soaping me up has yet more blood rushing to my cock, and I’m going to need some of that to power my brain.
Her finger brushes against my tongue, and the visceral shiver I see travel through her body has me ready to get on my knees to worship her. She pulls her hand back like I’ve burned her.
I swallow the pills, knowing I have no idea what they are but not giving a fuck. Whatever they are, it was worth it to see her react to my touch that way.
“Raven was right, you are feisty.”
The colour drains from her face when she responds, “You heard that?”
“My mother was deaf,” I sign the words as I speak. Staring at her mouth, I wait for her to talk; I don’t even have to look up at her face to see the second realisation strikes, her mouth falling open.
“You read my lips?”
“Yep. It’s amazing how forthcoming people are when they don’t realise who’s paying attention.”
Her awkward smile is cute as I imagine her brain cataloguing all the times we’ve been in the same room, all the instances when she’s caught me looking her way.
Panic creeps over her expression slowly, like a lapping tide against the shore, the imprints in the sand cleared away as another memory hits her.
I know more about this little vixen than she realises.
I don’t tell her that my mother wasn’t born deaf, that she lost her hearing after a particularly brutal beating from my father.
I also don’t tell her that I would mimic deafness as a kid any way that I could to relate to my mother, and that’s why I am so good at reading lips.
I want to tell her everything—but this carefree Cara with the reddened face gnawing nervously on her lip, I’d like to stay with her a little longer. I don’t want her pity.
“I knew a girl once. From my old job.” Cara holds up her hands, looking right down into my soul before she continues, “Her name was Hope D-a-n-i-e-l-s.” She signs the woman’s name the best she can; Hope is easy enough, but Daniels gets a little lost in translation as she uses her fingers to sign each letter individually, opting for the letter M rather than the N she was going for and completely losing the S.
“She taught us some of the basics. Please, thank you, dickhead .” She laughs, offering a sign with each word out of her mouth; of the three, she nailed dickhead to perfection.
“The curse words are always fun to learn, and it turns out, I’ve met a lot of dickheads,” she tags on.
The silence drags on and she stumbles to fill it.
“You know, some of the patients here would love to have the attention from a woman like Doctor Mayfair.” She busies her hands and then seems to change her mind, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders to look me dead in the face.
Her turn to read me, I guess. Jealousy looks good on my girl.
I blink away the fuzziness in my head, likely the meds kicking in, desperate to stay in this light-hearted moment with her.
“They also think the walls are whispering to them,” I counter.
“Are you saying you don’t like the attention?”
“Attention is like a compliment, Red—it means nothing unless it’s coming from the person you like.”
“And pray tell—who do you like, Mr. Wolfe?” I see the wariness that eclipses the strength in her expression, her hand sliding onto her hip.
“See, feisty,” I remark, shaking a finger at her, purposely not answering her question.