I think she’s feeling a bit sympathetic considering the circumstances.
This time, now that there isn’t so much hooked up to him, I climb onto the bed and curl into his side. I brought my journal with me and thought it would be nice to read to him the same way I’ve been reading to Mom. I read him poem upon poem that I’ve written over the past few years, mainly focusing on the ones in which he’s the main subject. When I finally glance at the clock, I realize I’ve been reading out loud for over an hour. But when I see what the next poem is, I say, “Okay, one more. Then we need to get some rest.”
The poem isn’t all that creative, it’s in basic form. It’s one I wrote when I was living in Central Valley, but right now, it really resonates with me, especially with all that’s going on. Slowly, I read the words as I take his hand in mine.
I came to you a scared girl,
Running from her past.
I was fragile, I was cracked,
A figure made of glass.
You took me in your arms,
You held me in your heart.
Shielded me with your strength,
My fortress from the start.
If I could just explain,
what you truly mean,
you’re my confidant, my lover,
you’re my happy scene.
If I could just explain,
What you truly mean,
I’ll spend forever telling you,
Each and every little thing.
As I read the final two lines, tears drip down my face and cascade onto the fabric of his hospital gown. After a minute, it’s completely soaked.
“I thought you didn’t let anyone know what’s inside your journal,” an amused voice croaks.
I jump, startled, and my gaze flashes up to find my favorite set of caramel eyes staring down at me. That’s when I lose it. I begin sobbing hysterically and it’s far from a pretty cry.
Gray squeezes my hand gently, his body still weak. “Hey,” he coos, “that’s not exactly the first thing I want to see when I wake up. I was expecting a much better welcome back than that. Maybe some sexual favors.” He wags his eyebrows weakly.
This causes me to giggle, and I press my lips to his.
“I love you,” I admit. Finally. I’m seriously surprised when heavenly bells paired with the glorious sounds of “ahhhh” don’t sound out from the revelation.
“I know.” He smirks down at me. I have to fight the urge to punch him in the side, and I tell him so. “Well, in that case, I love you too. Please don’t gut punch the gunshot victim.” He laughs, stopping abruptly on a wince.
I sit up and reach for the button on the panel of his bed.
“What are you doing?” he asks, catching my wrist.
“Calling the doctor. They’ll want to know you’re awake. The hospital told us to prepare ourselves for the worst. Your family is staying back at your apartment. I’m only here because they’re technically supposed to be keeping an eye on things. Mom’s upstairs too.”
I reach for the intercom again, but he catches my wrist, again.
“Wait just a damn minute. I want to spend some time with you before they come rushing in here and perform all the tests and whisk me away from you. How’s your mom?” he asks, concerned.
“Still unconscious but her prognosis is stellar,” I assure him.
He starts to ask something else, then hesitates.
“What is it? You can ask me anything.” I gaze into his eyes, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs and his brow furrows.
“The baby?” he prompts.
“He or she is fine, smaller than they should be, but fine. I’m pretty sure I’ve started feeling him move around,” I beam up at him happily.
He gives me a weak smile and says, “Good.”
But that’s all he says on the topic, and my heart sinks.
Just a little bit.
~XoXo~
Two weeks after that terrible day, when I thought Gray was slipping away, Nurse June informs him he’ll be cleared for release soon, and it’s nothing but sweet relief. From the moment he woke up, everything shifted. His recovery was fast-paced and impressed even the most seasoned of the hospital staff. It’s surprising how the person least expected to survive becomes the one who gets out of the hospital first.
Mom is still out. I’m starting to freak about it a little but the Doctor assures me it’s normal. It could just be a coping mechanism of the brain because of all the stress she went through, bodily and mentally. After having my own check-up, I skirt back down to Gray’s room, which I left only a few hours ago. I walk over the threshold, eager to talk to him about my worry for my mom, but everything is cleared out.
Huh? They must have moved him while I was visiting Mom and having my check-up.
Running to the desk, I ask the nurse, “Hey, do you know where the patient from room 204 was moved to? Grayson Knightley is his name.”
Her fingers hover over the keyboard and she pauses, stating, “Hmmm. It looks like he was discharged about twenty minutes ago.”
I can feel the confused look on my face. I don’t need to see it. Picking up my phone, I call Jameson.
“Hey, do you know where Gray is?” I ask before he even has a chance to get his ‘hello’ out.
“Yeah, I just dropped him off at his apartment. He’s thinking about going back to Central Valley to stay now that all this Dominic stuff is behind us.”
“Like, he’s moving back?” I have to make sure I heard him correctly because none of this news makes sense to me.
“He didn’t tell you?” Jameson’s voice sounds surprised.
“No.”
Everything around me becomes distorted. Why would he move?
I think back on the prior few days. He seemed distant at times but I thought it had to do with the stress we’ve all been under. For some reason, the few minutes before he was shot are called to the forefront of my mind.
He had asked me a question that had me exceedingly irritated with him…
“Jameson. Are you going to be here soon? I don’t want to leave Mom by herself.”
“Pulling in now,” he remarks.
“Good. I need to borrow your ride.”
Practically running to the front entrance of the hospital, Jameson pulls up just as I’m coming through the sliding glass doors. He tosses me the keys without hesitation, and I squeal tires out of the parking lot, only to realize I don’t have directions to Gray’s apartment.
Picking up the phone, I re-dial the number once again, making sure I have all the necessary info before hanging up this time. I tap out the address into the built in GPS of Jameson’s luxury SUV and it instantly pops up on the screen’s display. Slamming on the brakes, I fight traffic to make a U-turn that can’t be considered particularly safe. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal in the section of highway where I perform the maneuver, but I choose to ignore the sign posted at the intersection. I begin weaving in and out of traffic, nearly creating a perfect zig-zag between the vehicles, reminding me of the teeth on a zipper, but when it comes to Gray, playing it safe has never been my strong suit.
There are more cars on the road than I’ve ever seen in my life, yet somehow, I manage to pull up outside the building in less than five minutes. Those driving habits I exhibited in order to make it in half the time the GPS had estimated will have to remain one of my best-kept secrets. Jameson would flip if he knew I put this expensive-ass car at risk, but he’d be even more pissed I put myself at risk in the process.
Wasting no time, I walk straight up to Gray’s apartment number and begin pounding my fist against the metal door over and over. Furious and suddenly sick to my stomach, I’m not even alarmed when a dog begins growling from the other side. Finally, I register the clicking of the latch as it releases. The door rushes open to reveal a freshly showered, ocean-scented Gray. His bandage is wrapped around his defined torso, a white towel draped low on his hips and water drips from his tousled hair having apparently been forc
ed to dry off in haste due to my relentless knocking. My eyes glide across his broad shoulders, trailing all the way down his expansive upper body before landing on his newest tattoo—my tattoo—and I can’t help but notice the way his chest is heaving. Unconsciously, my tongue slicks across my lips as I watch another drop of water roll right over the inked spot of significance.
At last, my eyes pull away from the blatant act of appreciation, seeking the comfort of his pale browns. He’s regarding me so intently and clearly surprised I’m the one at the door. I’ve been so caught up in staring, I hadn’t even noticed he opened the door with a weapon in tow. Slowly, he drops one of his hands away from the gun, allowing it to fall loosely at his side. I may have missed the gun, but I don’t miss the fact his eyes are suddenly narrowed.
“You shouldn’t bang on someone’s door like that. Particularly someone who’s just been shot,” he points out harshly, remaining locked in place and effectively blocking the entrance.
“Are you going to let me in?” I ask, giving him another head-to-toe once over.
Releasing a puff of breath he reluctantly steps aside, and as soon as I push past him, I hear a dog yapping away again. My eyes land on the little ball of fur.
“Is that…?” I let the question trail off.
“Princess Frou Frou, but I’ve shortened her name to just Prin. Unless she’s in trouble,” he says blandly.
I drop down to scratch her playfully behind the ears and she instantly warms up to me. Enjoying her for a bit longer than I probably should considering the circumstances, I stall, using the time to gather my courage.
When I do, I stand back up and walk straight face to chest with him, tipping my head back and attempting to ignore the fact he’s still in just a towel.
“Are you running away, Gray?” I challenge, staring him down with mere inches between our faces.
His nostrils flare as he gazes down at me. Something in his eyes tells me he’s angry, but it keeps flickering back and forth between that and confusion.
“No.” His brusque tone is far too defensive for that to be the truth. “I abandoned my family so that I could help get rid of Dominic being a threat in your life.” He gives a simple shrug of the shoulders, playing it off as nothing. “He’s not a threat anymore. It’s time I head back home and pick up some of the duties that have been sitting on Lyra’s shoulders. She’s too young for all the shit she’s been having to deal with.”
He stands up taller as he says everything like he’s made up his mind.
“It’s not because of the baby?” I ask.
He tears his gaze from mine for a second, before turning back to look straight in my eyes, an expression of determination settling over his handsome features. “No.”
Lies.
“Bullshit.” I glare up at him.
“I’m happy for you, V. You’ll make an amazing mother. But that’s your business.”
“Is it?” I ask, my voice becoming venomous. “Is it just my business?”
He ignores my question. “Have you ever considered what you’d do if I weren’t in the picture? Would you try to make a family for your baby if you weren’t feeling obligated to the man who stepped in front of a bullet for you? Because if you think about it, you never once told me you loved me until after. After you found out I’d partnered up with Jameson to help take down Dom. After I took someone’s life who was trying to rape you. You never outright told me you loved me before any of those things happened, so I think it’s a little odd coming from you now. Look…” He huffs, his brow furrowing as his nostrils flare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so vulnerable. “I don’t want you to be with me by default. I don’t want you to be heir apparent to your heart because you feel like you owe me for the things I’ve done.”
His words sting worse than a thousand bees, but strangely, I get where he’s coming from.
He’s so very wrong, and I understand his thought process, but I’m still not sure how exactly to feel about it.
Frustrated?
Angry as fuck?
Saddened?
“So, let me get this straight. You think I’d choose to be with the baby’s father if it wasn’t for you? You think I told you I loved you because of the things you’ve done for me, for saving my life no less? And you think you’re standing in the way of my baby having both of his parents in his life?”
I can’t help but laugh out loud despite not being the least bit amused. It’s a laugh birthed from the absurdity of how things are panning out.
“It’s not funny. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He glances at the clock hanging on the wall nearby. “My plane leaves in a few hours.”
“I see,” comes my cool reply, “I have to go back to the hospital, but I brought you something before you go.” I toss him my journal, adding, “There’s a passage in it I’d like for you to read.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, V. Don’t make this harder than it has to be because this sure as fuck isn’t easy for me.”
“Yeah? Well, it isn’t easy for me either, asshole. Read the page I marked. BEFORE you leave town. You owe me that at least.”
Before he can react, I’m on my tip-toes in a flash, fusing my lips to his before tearing them away again. I leave him standing there looking confused and hurt. And from the expression he wears, torn as to whether or not to come after me. Right now, everything is riding on whether or not he grants me this one final request…
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gray
EVERYTHING ASIDE FROM Prin and myself are packed and ready to go. There wasn’t actually that much to take with me, just like I only brought the basics when I moved in, to begin with. I sit at on the wooden stool of my breakfast bar, knuckles white from gripping the tattered edge of Valley’s journal as I glare down at it.
Why the fuck does she have to make everything so difficult?
Why has she always made being a gentleman, and doing what’s morally right, so damn hard on me?
I start—several times—to set it down and leave it behind, to walk out that door and head home. To be with my family and work on fixing our relationships and to try and move on, maybe even never look back if it were a real possibility.
But that feels too disrespectful after everything we’ve been through.
So, I pick it up again.
If I don’t do this, I’ll always wonder what she wanted me to see. It’ll gnaw at me the rest of my life, and then how will I move on?
I flip to the page that’s marked and find there’s actually several pages in a row that have been folded down. The first page marked is from the month of October.
Tonight is the night of the Charity event I promised Pierce I’d attend. Yesterday morning I was decidedly not going to go, but I realized, if I’m ever going to move on from Gray then I have to start somewhere. And let me just say, after six months of friendship with Pierce—three of which we were fooling around every now and then, using each other for sex and engaging in a friends-with-benefits type of relationship—I realized that just wasn’t going to cut it. He’s been hinting at wanting a real relationship with me, all the while, I’ve been keeping him at arm’s length.
All because my heart still belongs to someone else, and yes, I realize you, my journal, are probably sick of hearing his name and the depressed state just thinking it puts me in. I’m trying to remedy that. Any girl would be lucky to have Pierce Wilder after them. For one, I actually trust the guy because he’s proven nothing but a true friend to me. But he has so many other amazing attributes to offer as well. He’s charming, sexy-as-sin, handsome, driven, and he’s mysterious. He has so many secrets lurking beneath the surface, just like me, and I’d like nothing more than to uncover them. Needless to say, he’s far from boring. So, why isn’t that enough? I don’t know, but I’m going to try and do right by him. Even if I’m not ready, I’m pushing myself out there and I’m forcing my heart to move on because at this point, I’m only going to get worse if I’m not trying to make myself be
tter.
I’m waiting for him to pick me up, dressed and styled like someone from Hollywood by his own personal stylist, and he’ll be here any minute. I’ve actually made him late but I think he’ll get over it…I hear him knocking now.
There’s another one down the page from the same day.
Well, that did not go as planned. I’m so thoroughly fucked. Literally, as well as mentally. How does life do this?! How does it throw you so many surprises? He was there tonight. Everything started out like a dream. Pierce was attentive, he never made me feel like I didn’t belong, he introduced me to everyone he spoke with. It was all going so good. I could actually see myself with Pierce, us as a couple and how we made sense. A relationship between us was something I could grow into if I just gave it the chance to blossom and bloom.
But that was before my eyes landed on the freaking love of my life and the thorn in my side. I still don’t know why he was there, but I have a feeling it wasn’t because he was expecting to find me there. Not from the way he seemed infuriated I had gone out to such a public event and put my fake identity at risk. He followed me to the powder room and we fought…and like they always do when we’re around each other, one thing led to another. We can’t resist each other, even when we’re not supposed to be together. I can’t even resist him when I’m there with another man! It’s infuriating how he makes me feel, but on the other side of all that, it’s oh so satisfying.
Now I’m faced with a decision I don’t have it in me to make. Choose to wait for Gray, or force myself to move on with Pierce? Well, I guess it’s not much of choice seeing as how I already chose tonight in the powder room. I’m still in love with him. I will always be in love with him. And I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ve got to go. I’m calling Pierce.
There are a few other ones that I skim over just because I’m nosey but they’re all pretty much about her day-to-day life. For some reason, for those few months, she doesn’t use her journal as much. When I get to the last page she’s marked for me to read, I note that it was written the day before she was abducted.
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 30