McCormick's POV
Home tomorrow.
Home.
That simple word sounded so good.
Mark listened to the one sided conversation. It actually sounded like Hardcastle was proud of him. He had obviously bet Frank that Mark would win the race, and he was gloating over the fact that he had broken the track record.
"How could I have forgotten that?" Mark thought.
It sounded like Claudia was going to be cooking them dinner. "That's...nice," he thought.
And the way the judge explained his getting shot, it didn't sound like he thought Mark was a loser at all.
He lay back on the bed, holding his arm tightly against his body.
Mark felt the pillow under his arm at the same time as he realized the judge had moved to the side of the bed.
"Where'd you get that?" he asked, glancing over to the other bed and noticing the other pillow was still there.
"From the housekeeper," Hardcastle answered.
Mark closed his eyes, "why is he doing all this?" he thought as he drifted off to sleep.
Hardcastle's POV
The judge watched him drift into a light sleep, then reached down and felt his forehead. He was still a little feverish, but not like it had been. He smiled to himself, the antibiotic was working. "I'll get you sorted out kiddo," he thought as he turned back to the TV.
