“What about Maggie…”
I glanced up at Vi, swallowing, not hesitating when I answered. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.” The older woman opened her mouth, likely ready to argue with me, but when I only stared back at her, keeping my expression even, she gave me a nod, looking me up and down like she figured I could manage. Maybe I could. Maybe I couldn’t. One thing was sure, there wasn’t anybody else I’d let take care of Maggie. That was my job.
“Sit up.”
“You’re so bossy…”
“And you’re a whiny invalid.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“If you say so.”
She barely lifted her head. Maggie used my chest and the back of her arm to push herself up and got two long sips of the chicken broth Ma sent over down her raw throat before she scrunched her nose and rested back against me.
“It’s murder on my throat …”
“Dramatic,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t like how pale she was or how long the fever had stuck with her. But Dr. Richards had been by twice in the past three days, shooting Maggie up with a course of penicillin, warning us that it might take a while to work.
Until then, I was stuck with the world’s worst, but most beautiful strep patient. “You’re lucky my ma isn’t over here spoon-feeding you. She threatened.”
“It’s worse,” Maggie said, relaxing against my shoulder. “I got you.” She closed her eyes when I brushed the hair from her forehead, then opened them, blinking up at me. “You…don’t have to do this, you know. I can manage.”
Eyebrows shooting up, I tried damn hard not to laugh at her. “An hour ago you couldn’t keep your head off your pillow for more than a half hour.”
“It’s the medicine.” The quick shrug and jerk of her chin did nothing to convince me.
She wore no makeup. Her skin was clean and pale, but clear, and I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her. Like some sprung kid who snuck into his girl’s bedroom in the middle of the night, just having Maggie kicked back against my chest was fucking indulgent.
And I wasn’t the only one doing a little indulging. We’d been in this little bubble with no one around for days, snuggled up like there was something more than just…whatever the hell there was between us, locked up in this apartment. I saw it in her eyes, that sweet glance that told me what she wanted. The same damn shit that filled me up anytime I spotted her across a room, like seeing something I wanted, knowing I shouldn’t want it, but having that deep down hope that it could still be mine despite knowing it wasn’t likely.
Maggie pressed her lips together, moving her face against my fingers when I brushed the hair from her cheek, and I blinked, remembering her excuse and the conversation we were supposed to be having. “The ah…antibiotics don’t make you fuzzy-headed.”
“No,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “that’s you.”
Fingers resting between her hair, I stared down at her, not sure what to think. Not sure if I should be thinking anything at all. “I make you fuzzy-headed?”
“Did I say that out loud?” She tilted her chin down, closing her eyelids like they’d gotten too heavy to keep open, and some of the air came back into my lungs.
“Bella, you’re high.”
“Not high enough.” Maggie took a breath, her bottom lip opening so wide that I could make out the tip of her tongue behind her teeth. Even high on pain meds, she was a temptation. She let me pull her closer, adjusting her head against the arm of the sofa as I watched her, fanning out her thick hair against the lumpy pillow under her head. “Why are you so good to us?”
“Ulterior motives,” I admitted, guessing she probably wouldn’t remember any of this conversation.
“Which are?”
“The kid. He’s gonna be president. I might need a pardon one day.”
“Smoke…” Maggie grinned, fluttering her eyes open, the pupils back to normal as she watched me—clear, alert. The fuzziness was gone. She heard me. She’d caught me. For the life of me, I couldn’t find a reason to worry that she had.
Maggie Ramirez was strong. Smart. She was kind. She was honest.
She was beautiful.
What kind of idiot wouldn’t want her? What kind of fool wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect her?
I took a thick curl from her shoulder and wrapped it around my finger, not thinking of anything really, but the distraction it gave me and how good it felt to have her in my lap, watching me, liking that this felt normal. Comfortable. At least, what passed for both in my world.
“I told you…I have your back.”
A small sigh left her mouth when she adjusted, turning on her side, facing me before she spoke. “You made sure Milly Jacob’s kids had new robes for their choir competition.”
“Yeah. So?”
“And Luke Schmidt said you paid for a new roof on his dad’s garage because he lost his job last winter.” Her stare was neutral, her point silent, and I met it with more of the same for a full minute, getting nothing back from her.
Finally, I shrugged, moving my chin at her. “You got a point?”
A twitch shook across her lips before Maggie nodded, pulling on my hand so she could run her nails against my palm. “You have a lot of people’s back, but you aren’t spoon-feeding them soup and making sure their kid is taken care of.” She rested my hand against her chest, curling her fingers with mine and the air went still again in my lungs with the look she gave me. “You aren’t low-key getting paint jobs on the secondhand cars they buy or talking your folks into paying them too much for a waitress job.” She reached up, brushing away the hair that had fallen into my eyes as I watched her. “And, far as I know, you aren’t giving them mind-blowing orgasms.” When I only watched her, not saying a word, Maggie squinted, narrowing her eyes. “Are you?”
I pulled the right side of my mouth up, grinning at her. “Mr. Schmidt is a little too flat chested for me, bella.”
I liked her laugh and that pretty smile. There had been a lot of beautiful women in my circle over the years, but there’d never been a smile that sweet or a laugh that genuine. Even sick as a dog, Maggie was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She let that smile linger, let it hang on her lips for a few seconds as she watched me fussing with my hair again before she dropped her hand, holding onto my fingers again, keeping them close to her chest.
“I can never repay you.” Her voice was quiet, but clear.
“I’d never ask you to.”
“Smoke…”
She’d never asked me for a damn thing. But then, Maggie wasn’t the sort who would. That’s why I knew she was a decent person. What she gave me came from the heart and it came with zero expectation. What I gave her came from a place I didn’t understand, not completely, but I was starting to see parts of it.
Taking her hand in both of mine, I kissed her knuckles, hoping she saw me clearly and honestly. Hoping she knew what I said, I meant. “I’d be a liar if I said you don’t matter.” I couldn’t quite hold her eyes, not when they went glassy and wet. Maybe that’s why she looked away, moving her lashes like a fan, like blinking quickly would get rid of the wetness behind them. But I wasn’t done. She had to know that. “You matter to me,” I said, holding her attention. “You and the kid. You matter more than I thought you would.”