by Caila Jaynes
It was exhilarating, this attraction to Grayson, but as exciting as it was, it also scared her.
Was he as drawn to her as much as she was to him? Did he feel it too, that frisson of awareness every time their eyes met?
And if he did, what did it mean? Where could this relationship go, if there even was one?
When she’d gotten up this morning, Grayson had been in the living room, watching the sun rise from the wide windows there. He’d gone with her to walk Charlie, and had fed him for her while she took a shower and got dressed for class.
She was a little disappointed when he’d told her during their walk that Alex would be meeting them at the law school and taking over for a few hours. Grayson had a meeting he couldn’t miss but would be back later in the day.
“Ready to go?” he asked when she stepped into the living room and picked up her tote.
“As I’ll ever be. Facing my classmates should be oh-so-fun after being used by my professor as a cautionary tale.”
Grayson’s gaze swept over her outfit, a silk tank and slim-fitting slacks, a cashmere cardigan over her shoulders for the coolness of the mid-October air. He gave her a wry grin. “At least you’ll look good while doing it.”
Claire laughed, enjoying this light side to him. It’s going to be a great day.
Chapter Forty-Five
Eli had been able to set up a meeting with Michael Alvarez, the assistant US attorney who was prosecuting Christopher Jones’s case, and had asked Grayson to join him. As he and Eli walked into the Judiciary Center building, Grayson brought his boss up-to-date on the information he’d gathered on Eric Sewell, the heckler from Thomas Parker’s speech.
“You’re not going to believe it, but he was down here last week.”
Eli’s eyes widened. “How’d you find out?”
“He got a speeding ticket while he was here in DC. I’ve contacted the local PD in Boston to let them know he’s a person of interest in Claire’s case.”
“Are they going to pick him up?”
Grayson nodded. “Later today. I’ll get an update after they interview him.”
Eli and Grayson were escorted to Alvarez’s office. When Eli knocked on the glass-paneled door, the prosecutor motioned them inside. In his mid-thirties, Alvarez had gelled black hair and equally dark eyes, and wore a charcoal-gray suit. His expression was guarded as introductions were made.
Grayson’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he and Eli took the seats in front of Alvarez’s desk. He ignored the call and met the lawyer’s gaze. “We understand you’re prosecuting Christopher Jones for distribution of meth.”
After Grayson had explained why they were there, Alvarez steepled his fingers. He didn’t look the least bit sympathetic to Chris’s situation.
Grayson sat forward in his seat. “We’ve been after this ring for months and have information we’re willing to give you on Chris’s behalf, in exchange for his charges being dismissed. We’re still working on finding the ringleader, and whatever actionable information we find, we’ll share with your office.”
Alvarez’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Jones should have provided the information himself.”
“He’s afraid.”
Eli’s deep voice cut in. “Let’s remember that this is a kid we’re talking about. He’s only nineteen.”
“An adult in the eyes of the law,” Alvarez countered.
Heat rose to Grayson’s face, but he forced himself to sit back as Eli continued.
“I did some pretty stupid things at that age but was lucky enough to have parents who set me straight. This young man doesn’t have the same advantage.”
The prosecutor leaned back in his chair, studying them for a moment before he spoke. “Fine.”
Grayson’s hope rose. “We have a deal?”
Alvarez shrugged. “Why not? Mr. Jones will be back in the system in no time, anyway. We’ll get him then.”
Grayson’s elation dimmed as he studied the prosecutor. Given the man’s job, a certain amount of cynicism was to be expected. Sad, but understandable.
Grayson’s phone vibrated for a second time. He pulled it from his pocket and his heart sank when he saw who was calling. The news from Mary hadn’t been good last night, and the fact she was calling him so soon made him break out in a light sweat.
“Please excuse me. I need to take this call.”
Eli nodded. “We’ll wrap things up here. I’ll see you outside.”
Once he was out of the prosecutor’s office, Grayson returned his aunt’s call.
“How’s Mom?” he asked, not even saying hello.
The whimper he heard on the other end of the line nearly broke his heart. Mary might not be his favorite person, but she loved her sister deeply.
“G-grayson,” she finally said, hardly able to speak through her sobs. “It’s time. Hospice is on their way.”
Every drop of blood in Grayson’s body froze at her words. Logically, he’d known this was coming, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t come quite this quickly. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to say good-bye to his mother. She was all he had left.
“How much time does she have?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“I don’t know,” Mary wailed, then sucked in a deep breath. Sounding a little more composed, she croaked out, “But you need to be here.”
His vision blurring, Grayson swept a hand over his face. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Forty-Six
As Claire rode back to her condo with Alex after class, her cell phone rang. Grayson. A shimmer of happiness filled her as she picked up the call.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice dull. “I’m headed back to Pennsylvania, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
The fizzy joy she felt evaporated. “Your mother?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Alex has agreed to stay with you until I get back.”
She stole a glance at Alex, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned it. “Is it . . . is her time near?”
Grayson let out a ragged breath. “A few days, maybe. No idea.”
“Gray, I don’t know what to say. I wish—” Claire stopped herself, stunned at what she was about to say. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,” she said instead.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Claire pulled the phone from her ear, surprised to see Grayson had ended the call before she could respond.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Grayson sat at his mother’s bedside very early Thursday morning, his heart pounding with worry as he gazed down at her. In the hours since he’d arrived, she hadn’t awakened. Her breathing was shallow now, and even more disturbingly, her respirations seemed to be waning in frequency.
He squeezed his eyes shut at the realization that he probably wasn’t going to be able to say good-bye.
“It must be hard seeing her like this.” Anna, the young hospice nurse, wore cheerful pink scrubs that contrasted with the look of sadness on her face.
“I should have come sooner.” Grayson shifted his gaze to his aunt, who stood slumped against the wall, the heavy bags beneath her eyes proof of her exhaustion. “You should get some rest.”
Mary frowned at the words and then seemed to debate them. “Will you come get me if anything changes?”
“We will,” Anna assured her.
Once Mary had left the room, Anna turned back to Grayson. “Why don’t you get some rest too? I’ll wake you both if anything changes.”
Grayson glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Two a.m. He probably should try to get some sleep. He nodded at Anna and gave his mother’s hand a quick squeeze before rising from his seat.
As he made his way to his bedroom, his thoughts shifted from his mother to Claire. He hadn’t seen her before he’d left DC, but he’d called to say he was on his way to Pennsylvania. Her sympathetic response had touched him but he’d cut her off, instinctively pulling away.
What wou
ld she say if she were here? Something comforting, no doubt. But no matter how much he wanted to call her, he wasn’t going to. Not at this hour.
Besides, it would be a mistake to get too close to Claire. Professionalism and all that.
Liar. You just don’t want to take the risk.
Grayson sank onto his bed and cradled his head in his hands.
An hour later, Grayson was startled awake by a knock on his bedroom door. He jumped up and opened the door, finding Anna in the hallway.
“Her breathing’s gotten worse.”
Grayson’s heart pounded as he rushed to his mother’s room to find his aunt standing by the bed. He lowered himself into the chair on the opposite side and took hold of his mother’s hand.
“She hasn’t taken a breath since I’ve been here,” Mary choked out.
Anna pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and leaned over the bed. “What I saw a couple of minutes ago was probably her last.” She listened to Eleanor’s chest for a moment, then stood and shook her head sadly.
A heaviness settled on Grayson’s chest, pressing until he couldn’t take a breath. The moment he’d been dreading had arrived, but it hadn’t occurred to him until now just how empty it would make him feel.
His aunt stood and wrung her hands as she began pacing the room. “The funeral director said to call once this happened. I’ll go do that.” She glanced at Anna before she looked back at Grayson. “We can give you some time alone with her.”
For the next twenty minutes, Grayson remained at his mother’s bedside, overwhelmed by memories—his mother holding his hand as she walked him inside the school as he was starting first grade, the Christmases she’d worked hard to make special for him, the times she’d detoured through DC on her way back home from a trip, just to spend an evening with him and Camden and cook them dinner.
Then, knowing there was nothing more he could do, he stood and reached out to cup her cheek as he whispered, “I love you, Mom.”
When he walked downstairs, he found his aunt staring out the kitchen window. She turned around as he neared, holding a crumpled tissue against her reddened nose. “Your mother asked me to give you something.”
Mary left the kitchen and returned with one of his mother’s photo albums clasped to her chest. “There’s a letter inside. They’re your mother’s words, although I wrote them down for her.” Extending it to him, she tried in vain to smile.
The room seemed to spin as Grayson took hold of the album. His vision blurred, and what energy he had left drained from his body all at once.
He hadn’t been here to speak with her one last time, so his mother had been forced to dictate a letter. He was the worst son imaginable.
Unable to meet Mary’s eyes, he mumbled his thanks and carried the album upstairs. As he set it on top of his dresser, he tried to think positively.
Watching his mother suffer these past months had been a constant source of torture for him. At least now she was no longer in pain.
He stared at the album, suddenly repulsed by it. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t read that note. Not now, in the state he was in.
Devastated, Grayson dropped onto his bed and squeezed his eyes shut. He no longer had parents. He had no siblings. Sure, he had Camden and his teammates, who were like brothers. But his mother was right . . .
He needed more than just his career.
Chapter Forty-Eight
When Alex gave her the news about Grayson’s mother passing away the night before, Claire quickly excused herself and locked herself in her bedroom. Sadness gutted her for the second time in a week, yet this time, she grieved not so much for the deceased but for who was left behind.
Scratches came from outside her bedroom door as she cried. Finally, she wiped at her face and got up to open the door, allowing Charlie to come inside. He trotted in and blinked up at her, tilting his big head. As she closed the door behind him, he nudged his snout into her other hand, snuffling and seeking her attention.
Sweet Charlie.
“You’re such a good boy,” she said, her chest hitching with a sudden sob.
With a soft woof, he bounded over to the bed and leaped on top of the covers, then flopped into his usual spot. He looked back at her and when she didn’t move, he woofed again, an obvious invitation to join him.
Claire crawled onto the bed and snuggled with her dog, resting her chin on top of his head. Willing herself to stop crying, she stroked one hand along his warm back, her erratic breathing eventually slowing along with his gentle respirations.
Soon, she was asleep.
Chapter Forty-Nine
As he drove down the George Washington Memorial Parkway along the Potomac River the next Wednesday, Grayson answered his ringing phone.
“How are you doing, Gray?” Eli asked.
“All right,” he said, but the truth was he felt like shit. Grief had taken everything out of him, and now he was gutted and more numb than anything. “Thank you for the flowers you sent.”
“Wish I could have been there,” Eli said, his voice sincere. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where are you?”
“Back in town, on my way to Claire’s.” After the last few gut-wrenching days, seeing her again was the one thing he’d been looking forward to.
As Eli spoke, Grayson knew exactly what he would say next.
“You don’t need to come back to work so soon.”
And there it is. Eli was nothing if not consistent.
Since professionalism was the only thing that would deflect his boss’s worry, Grayson said, “I want to get back to the case. How did the interrogation with Eric Sewell go in Boston?”
“They had him in interrogation for hours but finally had to let him go. He wouldn’t admit to anything.”
Grayson frowned. They could prove Sewell had been in DC during the kidnapping, but nothing else. “What about phone records?” Maybe they’d reveal a connection to Rex Gibson.
“Still waiting on those.” Eli let out a sigh. “Listen, Gray, I really think you should take more time off. Don’t you need to deal with your mom’s estate?”
“I’m not worrying about that right now.” Grayson cleared his throat. “Eli, I’m fine. I’ll check in with you later.”
It had been hard enough to get through the small funeral his aunt had arranged, plus meeting with his mother’s lawyer and banker, arranging for final bills to be paid. He’d encouraged Mary to select a few items of her sister’s that held meaning for her, a few pieces of jewelry and the like, and drove her to the airport yesterday to return to Minneapolis. Like him, it was time for her to get back to her own life.
Once this case was wrapped up, he’d return to Scranton to deal with the house and its contents. Hopefully by then, he’d be in a better frame of mind.
Grayson glanced at the cardboard box in the passenger seat. Before he’d left his mother’s, he’d grabbed her photo albums, a few framed family photos, and her favorite teapot. Just as he was about to walk through the front door with the box in his arms, he’d turned and gone back for the package of Earl Grey tea she’d liked so much.
His heart in his throat, Grayson pressed the button for Claire’s condo in the foyer of her building. She buzzed him in, and when he stepped off the elevator, he found her standing in her open doorway, waiting for him. Her eyes large and luminous, she said nothing as she drew him inside and gave him a hug.
Wrapping his arms around Claire, Grayson found himself relaxing for the first time in days. He absorbed the warmth of her body as he ran his hands over the softness of her sweater and inhaled the coconut scent of her hair. When Alex entered the living room and came over to greet him, Grayson released her reluctantly.
Gripping his shoulder briefly, Alex said, “Sorry about your mother, Gray.”
“Thanks.”
“When’s the service?”
“We had something small already. Sunday afternoon.”
Alex scanned his face. “Sure you’re ready to come back to work?”
Grayson gazed down at Claire. She was studying him, apparently wondering the same thing. “I’m sure.”
“Okay then. I’ll get my things.” Alex headed for the guest room and returned a minute later, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Once the door closed behind him, Claire hugged Grayson again. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said against his chest. “It seems like such a trite thing to say, but I really mean it.”
He held her close, accepting her sympathy, and gave himself a moment to soak it up before he stepped out of her embrace.
Claire sat on the sofa, her expression beckoning, and he took a seat on the other end. She said nothing for a moment, just letting him be, which was so unusual for a woman. The females he knew normally peppered him with questions, determined to examine him from the inside out, but not this woman.
No, Claire was unique, and he found himself appreciating her gentle acceptance more and more.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Claire shifted her body toward him and drew one bare foot beneath herself, facing him. The casualness of her position was so open, so welcoming, Grayson found himself opening up to Claire without her even saying a word.
“It was so hard,” he said, “watching Mom die. She wasn’t conscious by the time I got there, so I never got to say good-bye.” His breathing hitched, and he took a moment to compose himself. “She dictated a letter to me that my aunt wrote up, but I can’t bring myself to read it.”
Claire reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “You will when the time is right.”
Grayson shook his head. “She should have been able to say what she wanted to in person. I should have been there.”