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I examine his features more thoroughly, and now that I’m looking for it, I do see some likenesses. Much like my own case, his difference in race hides a lot of the inherited features.
“The relation is less obvious than Jackson for sure,” I muse out loud, and Luis’ attention snaps to me again.
“Wait, what? Jackson?”
“You hadn’t caught that yet? He’s the spitting image of a young Jackson Adley.”
“I wouldn’t have known or recognized that. Damn, your dad gets around.”
“My dad?”
“He didn’t claim me, I don’t have to claim him.” He shrugs.
“Is this why you were following me?” I ask him outright.
“Partially, yeah. I’ve been trying to get some information about… an incident that occurred with my family. And some of the clues led back to your dad.”
“You can stop calling him that.”
“What, you don’t enjoy having been born with a silver spoon?”
“You have no idea what that silver spoon was attached to,” I say darkly.
He lets that go, thankfully. “Do you think Jackson knows?”
“I don’t think so. But it seems like his mother did if she named him after him,” I point out.
“Damn. And we all found ourselves here, wrapped up in the same chaos.”
I hadn’t even thought of it that way. What are the chances?
My thoughts are diverted by the bathroom door opening. She is struggling with the IV tubes and nearly trips. I catch her, holding her steady while she gets her bearings. Looking down to ask if she’s alright, I catch her staring up at me with wide eyes. Her mouth is caught in a surprised “o” as she slowly moves her gaze from my face, down to where she is pressed up against my chest, the rest of her body bowing against me.
“I, uh… um… sorry,” she stutters. Normally I would exploit this opportunity to fluster her, but honestly, I’m a little flustered myself.
Tightening my hands on her waist, I lift her off the ground and walk her back to the hospital bed. The years of malnutrition she’s suffered are apparent, she is so light it takes almost zero effort to lift her. It’s a good reminder about why she’s untouchable.
At 6 AM on the dot, Nurse Irene taps on the door and walks in, pulling a breakfast cart with her.
“Perfect timing, good morning Ms. Irene.”
Hopefully she doesn’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering a whole spread. I eye the different offerings on the cart. Fruit, toast, oatmeal - ahh, pancakes.
“Good, I was just thinking we need to feed you more.” I grab the lap tray and set a plate of pancakes in front of her.
At first, she just pushes the fork around a bit. Leaning forward, I give her a soft command.
“Take a bite.”
She tenses, her eyes wide, but then she complies and I swear I have never found eating erotic. But I do now.
“Good girl. Now, finish the plate,” I tell her in a low voice, trying to hide the arousal in my voice. For half a second, I worry that I’ve put her off, but then I notice her clench her thighs together under her hospital dress.
Looking at the nurse and pretending that she wasn’t just watching me flirt with her patient, I ask when they’ll be able to remove her IV. We’ll need to get her dressed, and it’ll be so much easier without the tubes.
“I was about to do just that,” Nurse Irene says kindly.
As the IV and tubing is being removed from one arm, I notice our girl is still eating with the other hand. She notices me watching her and I wink, eliciting a delicious flush in her cheeks. She’s so responsive, and I hate that I love it so much. I shouldn’t be attracted to a bed ridden trauma victim. This is probably more proof that I’m broken inside.
