We do as we’re told, and when we’re sitting, Lake asks, “Are those normal numbers for blood pressure?”
“Fuck if I know,” Mason whispers, as he places his hand on my shoulder again as he leans back, crossing a leg over the other.
We’re all fucking whispering, still scared out of our minds.
I glance at Mason’s hand, then say, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not because of you,” he mumbles. “It’s for me. So I don’t do anything stupid right now.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Just crazy talk. Don’t mind me.”
I sit back and really look at Mason. When I see the lethal gleam in his eyes, which is usually only reserved for West, I ask, “Who do you want to kill?”
“Serena,” he spits the name out. “She served the dishes. Before tonight, I’ve never seen her lift a fucking finger at any of the functions we’ve attended with her. She handed Layla that plate. She’s a TA. She has access to student records. My gut tells me she found out about the allergy.”
“Come on,” Lake jumps in. “I don’t like her either, but that’s pushing it a bit.”
“My gut has never been wrong,” Mason murmurs.
That’s true.
I replay the night from the moment we got to the hall. Serena leaving us to take care of something. My mother not once saying anything about Layla.
“Are you sure you saw her hand Layla the plate?” I ask to make sure.
Mason nods while clenching his teeth. “It caught my eye because I thought it was weird that Serena was smiling at Layla.”
“My mind’s a bit slow. Can you remember if my mother said anything about Layla?”
All three of us think about it.
“I don’t think so,” Lake answers.
“Are you thinking the same thing as me?” Mason asks.
“I’m too scared to answer that question. I don’t know what I’ll do if we’re right.”
Mason stands up. “You won’t have to do anything. I’ll handle it.” He leaves the room without telling us where he’s going.
I turn my head to Lake. “Go with him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, Stephanie is here, and I’m sure Kingsley will be here soon.”
When Lake runs after Mason, and I’m left alone, my suspicion begins to grow until an uncontrollable anger’s burning in my chest.
God help them if they had anything to do with Layla being in the fucking ICU right now.LaylaWaking up, it feels like my head’s about to explode.
It takes me a moment to remember what happened, and I’m not surprised when I hear the beeping of machines. Someone’s holding my hand and opening my eyes, I turn my head to the right where I see Falcon sitting next to the bed. He lifts his head and presses a kiss to my fingers before he closes his eyes.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
His head snaps up, and when he sees I’m awake, he darts out of the chair. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he rests his arms on either side of my head and leans in close. The worry etched on his face makes him look older than twenty-two.
“How do you feel?” he asks while his eyes drift over every inch of my face.
“I’m sure I look worse than I feel,” I joke. “Not pretty right now, right?”
His eyes lock on mine, and the loving smile on his face makes emotion push up my throat. “You’re beautiful.”
When my face crumbles and the tears rush to my swollen eyes, I turn my head away from him.
Falcon pushes his arms under me and holds me tightly. He presses a kiss to the side of my temple, and I turn my head further away, really not wanting him to see me looking like this.
I feel him brush my hair back and he presses another kiss to my jaw. “You’ll always be beautiful to me.” Kiss. “Thank you for waking up.”
“I don’t want you seeing me like this,” I admit tearfully.
Falcon takes hold of my chin and pulls my face away from his arm. “Look at me.” When I don’t, he repeats, “Look at me, my rainbow.” I bring my eyes to his, and he smiles again. “I love you.”
Hearing the words while I look my worst has my heart overflowing with love for this man.
Leaning down, he kisses my swollen lips. “I love you, Layla.”
Falcon keeps brushing his hand over my hair while looking at me until Mom comes to stand on the left side of the bed.
“How do you feel, kiddo?”
“Better,” I answer. Confused, I ask her, “What did I eat? I had a sip of apple juice, but I spat it out immediately and rinsed my mouth. I can’t believe I had such a bad reaction to it.”
“You’re allergic to apples, as well?” Falcon asks as he moves back to the chair on my right.
“They’re part of the same fruit family,” Mom explains. “There’s a whole list of fruits she has to avoid.” Mom smiles, reassuringly at me. “I’ll ask the doctor.”