Page 69 of Legends: Easton
Darby Anne shook her head, but her eyes twinkled. “Easton and his brothers are good boys. They help a lot of people. If there’s anything more to it than that, then I have no idea.”
Gran was saved from further interrogation by a nurse who came bustling into the room.
“Good news, Detective Maxwell. You are being released with a prescription for antibiotics and lots of rest.” She took down the bag connected to her IV and carefully removed the needle from Bailee’s arm. “I’m going to get your paperwork together. Do you need anything in the meantime?”
“I was brought in with someone. Could you find out how he’s doing? They had to take him to surgery, and he’s a critical witness in my investigation.” Bailee knew they couldn’t share news on a patient with anyone but family, but she took a shot that her law enforcement association might gain her an exception. “His name is Easton—”
“Easton is in recovery. He’s stable. The surgery went well, and the doctor is optimistic.”
“Oh, um, thank you.”
She looked over at Gran as the nurse exited. “That was easier than I thought. I guess HIPAA laws don’t carry much weight in small towns.”
Darby Anne smiled. “They carry the same weight here as they do everywhere. English gave the hospital permission to share his prognosis with us. That’s how it is with family. And believe it or not, Bailee Anne, they consider you family.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Easton stared up at the ceiling, running through the lyrics to every song he’d ever heard, the ingredients to every drink he’d ever mixed, or the memory of every prank he’d played on his brothers over the years…anything to take his mind over how terrible he felt.
The room was dim and too quiet. His body needed rest, but for some reason, he was wide awake and bored. His family had left after a noisy and welcomed visit. The nurse had come in with his latest dose of meds and to replace his IV bag.
Now he was left alone…to do nothing but think.
He’d lost track of the injuries he’d endured at the hands of that bastard, Clive Melvin. He wasn’t one who got a thrill from shooting others, but he had to admit a deep satisfaction at delivering the fatal shot that took Melvin out. Tater had told him yesterday that the shooting was ruled self-defense. No charges would be brought against him. Sabra Barnes was taken into custody, and the extradition process to move her to Louisville had already begun.
Everything was wrapped up and tied with a neat little bow…everything but Bailee Maxwell.
She’d visited numerous times and apologized almost as much for involving him. She was recovering just as he was, thoughher injuries weren’t as extensive as his. The bruises marring her face were fading, but her beauty was just as breathtaking as he remembered. He wanted to erase the guilt from her eyes and the remorse that tainted their visits.
He tried to distract her. He’d asked her how she found him and received a nice story of how she visited Marley’s Billiards when she was eighteen because of a boy she liked. Easton was sure he could probably guess the boy’s identity, so he didn’t ask her any questions about who the kid was.
Nothing seemed to lift her melancholy since his abduction. He felt useless. If only he could get out of the hospital, he could show her was fine, that he would recover, that he was none the worse for wear. He could prove to her that he didn’t regret any of it — not getting involved, not getting to know her, not spending the night with her.
“Hey.”
He lowered his eyes from the ceiling to see the object of his thoughts step into the room. Her hair swung about her face with each step. He knew it would feel like silk to the touch, and his fingers flexed with the memory.
Her chocolate eyes studied him as they had each time she visited over the last few days. Only they looked different this time. Gone was the regret and sadness. Her eyes now shone with a soft warmth that he felt spread through his chest. Her smile gave her a glimpse of her perfect teeth. Her full lips glistened with what he figured was a coat of chapstick, and he longed to have a taste.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He pulled his hand from under the blanket and held it out to her.
She dragged a chair over to his bedside before she held onto his hand. Her skin was soft against the callouses he’d built from working the bar. He caressed the web between her thumb and finger as he returned her smile.
“You look like you’re feeling better. The nurse told me before I came in that you’ll be discharged in a day or two. I know you’re going stir crazy.”
He made a face that he knew would make her laugh. “I am. But seeing you every day has made it bearable.”
Her smiled widened. “Anyone ever tell you what a dangerous man you are.”
“Hmmm. I’ve heard sexy. Stubborn even. But no, not dangerous.”
“You are definitely dangerous to my peace of mind,” she drawled softly, her free hand playing with the lock of hair that fell to his forehead.
“I could say the same about you,” he returned.
She shook her head. “No, not like you. I came to Fire Creek to relax, but the first time I saw you, I knew you were trouble.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The first time you saw me? You mean the time I offered to help you because you were hurt?”
