Page 18 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)
Maybelle
Betsy continued to fuss over me, checking “vital signs” and medical stuff like that I didn’t understand. Doctor Brown had left the room about ten minutes ago to talk to a boy… What boy? Maybe the brother they mentioned?
I examined Nurse Betsy as she practically trotted around the room with too much excitement to each step.
“Wh-why are you so happy?” I croaked out.
Betsy pivoted to me; jaw dropped in dramatic surprise. “Well, look at you,” she acknowledged. “I’m happy because that sweet boy, who’s being barred out there, finally gets to see you after waiting by your side for almost a year.”
I studied the woman while she tucked the blanket in at my feet. “Is he, my brother?”
She stopped her grinning. “No, baby, he’s not your brother, but from what I’ve heard, Liam would’ve been by your side as well if he could have.”
That wasn’t cryptic at all.
I opened my mouth to snark out as much at the sweet-talking nurse, but the door opened, cutting me off. Once again, Doctor Brown walked through the doorway. “Hello again, Miss Belle. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
I gazed back, expressionless, showing no signs that I was the least bit interested, but he moved from the door, allowing me a full view of the young man that stood behind him.
The first thing about him that caught my attention was the brown, wavy hair containing hints of gold.
Like chocolate ice cream with hot caramel sauce.
My gaze melted down his face to the shadow of scruff along his jaw and upper lip, then back up to his dark, emerald eyes staring after me in wide anticipation.
He was waiting for my reaction. I instantly registered that everyone in the small room was waiting for my reaction. I felt like a zoo animal as they gawked at me in silence. Maybe sleep wasn’t all that bad. The darkness of my mind didn’t stare back at me all creepily.
Unable to handle the quiet and watchful eyes any longer, I slanted a pleading look to Betsy.
Betsy, in her corner, let out a hearty chuckle. “How about we exit for a few minutes and let these two get reacquainted?”
I scowled. That wasn’t what I wanted at all, and the woman knew it as she shot me a wink before pivoting for the exit.
She gestured for Doctor Brown and Chelsea to follow her out.
Doctor Brown gave me a curt nod and smile before exiting while Chelsea grabbed the still nameless young man’s hand.
He returned the gesture, then she, too, walked out the door.
Whelp, it was quiet again.
This entire experience so far had all been overly dramatic and now exceptionally awkward.
I felt exposed under this stranger’s silent gaze, especially since I couldn’t recall what I looked like.
This boy was—pretty—very pretty, but for all I knew, I could have a snaggletooth, lop-sided face, and overgrown eyebrows that had absolutely no relation to one another.
I tried not to let the insecurity tighten with anxiety in my stomach. If he was going to stare, then so would I. Tilting my chin down, eyebrows slightly raised, I peered at him through my lowered lashes.
I better be hot. This look could be intimidating, seductive even, if I were good looking, but if I was ugly—this probably looked horrifying.
He finally returned my stare with a challenging, quizzical look. “What?”
“He speaks,” I mused roughly; my voice still terribly scratchy.
A low chuckle escaped him. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s been a long time waiting for you to wake up—I’ve missed you.” His face softened with the admission.
“That’s nice.” I forced a smile. “And your name is?”
He joggled his head, shaking away the dazed fog from his eyes. “Right, sorry. It’s Trey.”
I gave him a pleased nod. “So…are we?” I wiggled a finger between the two of us. Trey picked up what I was laying down and gifted me another husky chuckle that warmed my achy limbs.
He hesitated for only a moment before he said, “No, I was best friends with your brother, Liam. We all went to school together.”
“Interesting.”
Again, lots of missing pieces to the information I was being given. Specifically, with the was best friends . I hummed with understanding, then gestured to the chair next to my bed.
“You can sit. I’m not a biter, just a napper.”
A smile tugged at his mouth.
“I’m going to need you to be honest with me,” I started, watching as Trey nodded and dropped into the seat next to me.
“People have been beating around the bush all morning regarding my family and the killer knock to the head that put me to sleep. So, please, just be real with me. My brother—Liam, was it? He’s dead, right? I’m guessing my mom is too? ”
His face fell cold into a tight, stony expression. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he again nodded his response. I leaned my head into the pillow at my back, sighing with comprehension.
There was a tragedy. I waited for an ounce of pain, or sense of loss to hit me, but it never came. I guess it’s hard to ache for someone you lost when you can’t remember ever having them.
Trey watched me with that same pain-filled, stoic expression.
I smiled at him. “Thanks for being honest.”
He gave me a sad up-tilt of his mouth. “Of course. Always.”
“Okay, I need you to be honest with me again and I mean brutally honest, no lying,” I said, intentionally cutting through the solemn tension that coated the air around us.
He adjusted in the seat, making me notice a black notebook he held tightly between his firm hands.
“Am I hot? Or should I continue to avoid the mirrors?”
This obviously caught him off guard. Trey’s eyes widened, and then his head dropped between his shoulders as he shook with laughter. “Wow, you’re not the Maybelle I knew.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I pushed.
He leaned in close, showing off a straight, white, teasing grin. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I shrugged coolly. “Well, am I hot or not? I’m on the edge of my seat here.”
I wiggled in the bed, causing some of my blonde curls to fall forward. Trey’s eyes darted to the stray locks that now draped over my chest, forcing me to freeze. He leaned in closer, slightly pressed into my bed as he took one of my curls and wound it around his finger.
I watched his hand lift and tangle with the tuft of hair, all while holding my breath and surveying the dark, heated, green depths of his eyes.
I didn’t need him to answer me with words. I knew by the intensity in his eyes and the slight tremble of the curl in his hand.
I beamed at him before I whispered, “I’m drop-dead gorgeous, huh?”