Scratch The Surface - Mary Calmes Page 0,69

end of Jeremiah’s bed, and faced McCauley.

“I normally wouldn’t have spoken so freely in front of someone I don’t know, but I was informed you’re the ADA on the Barnum case.”

“I…yes,” McCauley muttered, holding out his hand.

Aguilar took the hand in both of his, which most people didn’t do, but I had always found especially warm. “If you have some time now, I’d like to bring you up to speed on the case that Mr. Wolfe has found himself a part of, and perhaps you can share with me the specifics of the freak accident at his apartment.”

“It would be my pleasure, Detective.”

I thanked McCauley as I followed him and the detective to the door so I could close it behind them, but not before I checked on them as they made their way down the long hallway. Being a romantic at heart, I thought it would be sort of star-crossed, or fated, if Detective Aguilar ended up being exactly what McCauley needed, both personally and professionally, and I had to smile in the midst of the chaos over such a whimsical notion.

“Why’re you smiling like that?”

I turned at the sound of Jeremiah’s voice and found him grinning blearily at me, not quite awake. “Just imagining McCauley and Detective Aguilar riding off into the sunset.”

“What?”

“I know, it’s a lot when you’re not conscious.”

“I am too,” he grumbled at me.

Moving fast, I bent over and kissed his forehead. “Yes, you are,” I placated him. “Are you hungry? Your new nurse told me to let her know when you woke up and they’d bring you dinner, or I can have something delivered. She told me you’re off all food restrictions since you’re being discharged tomorrow.”

He was staring at me but saying nothing.

“Jeremiah?”

“Are they gonna let you stay here with me?”

“They are.” I couldn’t help but smile, loving the way he took hold of my hand, like he wasn’t going to let go. “I told them I’m your boyfriend, so they––”

“You did?” The question came out sharp and almost accusatory, but at the same time, he was still holding my hand, so I was getting conflicting messages.

“Yes, I—” I paused a moment, afraid I might have overstepped or misjudged or, potentially, both. “I wanted to stay, so when they asked if I was family, I explained you had no family, but that you had me. I told them I was the closest thing.”

The nurse who had popped in, Evelyn—she had taken over for Chyna—informed me visiting hours would be over soon, and also said they were holding his meal for him. When I explained to her I had to stay, she’d asked the requisite questions.

“I’ll have a cot brought in for you,” she offered after I explained who I was. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Cam?”

“Sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply we’re more than friends, but I was concerned they wouldn’t let me stay if––”

“Imply whatever you want”—he tugged on my hand—“and call me whatever you want. Just c’mere.”

I bent and kissed him, and he bit my lip so I couldn’t ease back. No one had ever craved kisses from me. It was yet another brick in the wall cementing him into my heart.

I ordered in Italian: chicken carbonara and a Caesar salad for us and pizza for the nurses and orderlies. And yes, I did enjoy being their favorite. Goodwill through food was a lesson I’d learned early, when I used to ask my mother to make extra sandwiches for my friends in elementary school.

Noticing that Jeremiah was staring at me as we ate, I asked him if he needed another bottle of water, his first almost empty.

“Yeah, I will in a sec, but…my apartment burned down?”

I shook my head. “I made that mistake too, and McCauley corrected me. Your apartment was gutted by fire. Engulfed in flames. Ablaze with––”

“Yes. Big fire. I got it.”

“Okay.”

“That’s…I dunno…that’s nuts, right?”

My scoff was loud. “Your whole life is nuts. I can already tell hanging out with you will be a constant adventure.”

“Is that a good thing, though?”

“I can’t imagine I’ll ever be bored.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. But wouldn’t stability be better?”

“I think you’re confusing internal and external priorities.”

He squinted at me. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Yes, you do.”

“How do you know I do?”

“Because you’re a smart man.”

Quick huff of breath and shake of his head.

“Tell me,” I baited him.

He was glaring when he turned to me, and I stood up and walked to the end of his bed, crossing my arms,

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