Within These Walls by J. L. Berg Page A

should talk to Dr. Marcus first.
    I made a quick stop at the nurses’ station, asking if I could borrow a wheelchair. Showing up off shift wasn’t normal for me. After a few odd looks from the rest of the staff, I secured my requested item, and I was on my way to Lailah’s room when I saw just the man I had been looking for.
    Dr. Marcus was standing off in a corner, speaking intently with someone. His voice was low, but it was clear by the way his hands were moving and by the expression on his face that he was passionate about what he was trying to convey.
    “Why do you always feel the need to be so independent, Molly?” he hissed.
    “I will never depend on a man to take care of me ever again,” she threw back. Her arms folded across her chest in anger.
    She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before. The light blonde hair and blazing blue eyes reminded me of someone, but blondes were a dime a dozen in Southern California. She could be anybody.
    I tried to look away, aware I was eavesdropping on a personal conversation, but I’d never seen Dr. Marcus lose his cool before. He was what I would call, California chill —mild-mannered and always laid-back.
    Right now, even though I could only make out part of his face from the corner I was standing in—okay, spying from—I could see that his eyes were wild, full of fire and heat.
    “Do you think that’s all this is? Do you think all of this”—he made a gesture meant to encompass the two of them together—“was just so I could protect you? And Lailah, too?”
    My eyes widened, and I pulled back further into the shadows, not wanting to give up my position now that I’d figured out he was talking to Lailah’s mother.
    It was no wonder her platinum locks and petite frame seemed so familiar. Looking at her again, she bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. I’d never met Ms. Buchanan. I’d only heard about her from the few stories Lailah had told me. Most shifts, I usually didn’t come in until later in the evening, and she had normally left before I clocked in.
    “No, I’m sorry. I know you care, Marcus,” she said, hesitantly touching his bicep as the anger began to ebb.
    “I more than care, Molly.”
    Someone rounded the opposite corner, and they pulled apart before saying a quick good-bye and turning in different directions. Lailah’s mother headed toward the elevator, and Dr. Marcus marched down the hall where I was standing. I started pushing the wheelchair again, trying to act nonchalant.
    “Hey, J-Man. Dressed up for work today?” Dr. Marcus asked as he approached.
    He tried to cover up the sadness in his eyes with a smile, but it wasn’t working. I could still see it there, lingering behind those deep blue eyes. Pain recognized pain, and I’d been looking at the same set of eyes in the mirror for the last three years.
    “I don’t clock in until tonight. I’m actually here to visit Lailah.”
    A bit of surprise danced across his features. “Lailah? Really?”
    “Yeah.”
    I explained my plan to him, and he silently listened, watching me with the appraising eyes of a father figure. After I finished telling him the details, he grew still. I nervously stuck my hands in my pockets, waiting for some sort of reply. It seemed like an eternity of being looked at like I was one of those lobsters in a fish tank at a seafood restaurant.
    Then, he finally said, “That’s very kind of you, Jude. I think she’ll enjoy it, and she should be okay as long as you don’t plan on sticking her on a treadmill while doing any of this,” he said with a chuckle.
    “I’ll do my best to avoid the treadmill,” I joked.
    “Just make sure you don’t get too attached to Lailah. She’s innocent—in every way,” he stressed. “I have every hope that all will go as planned with her, but I don’t want her to get hurt.”
    My brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t think you understand, Dr. Marcus. I’m not pursuing