You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  Meredith sighed a second time, but this one sounded like relief instead of frustration, and Gray felt her body relax just a fraction. Again, he took in the sensation of touching her. She tensed when she spoke of Oscar’s father. She relaxed when he defended her against herself. What else could her body teach him?

  “Yes, we do.” She looked up at Oscar who now sat between Juno and Vulcan, a hand on the scruff of each dog. “Anyway, my friend Brooke is coming to get Oscar. Jamie’s been ignoring me all day.”

  “What a fool,” Gray muttered before he could stop himself, and this time Meredith laughed. His head rocked with her laughter, and for a moment, Gray had nothing in his skull but happiness.

  “I’m calling your brother now,” she said, after her laughter died.

  Gray closed his eyes. “If you must.” Nothing good would come of that, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I must.” The tension he felt in her body returned, but her fingers also came back to his hair. He almost moaned at her touch. She could have no idea what it did to him. Even as his head ached and his muscles felt like kettlebells, it stirred him body and soul.

  She’s doing that because she’s training to be a nurse. Nurses are supposed to comfort patients. She’ll be very good at her job.

  He told himself this was the truth, but since her touch was the only piece of his current existence that wasn’t pain or fear, he let himself forget that and simply feel her.

  “Hi, Mr. Blakewood, it’s Meredith Ryan…” She tensed harder, her thighs cementing beneath him. “Bax. Sorry… Well, no, he’s not okay—”

  “I’m fine,” Gray called, making sure Bax could hear him.

  “Yes, yes, that’s him. He had a seizure, but I was here… In fact, it’s my fault, really.”

  “It is not her fault,” he called again.

  “Quiet,” she hissed at him. “You see… No, sir, it’s not Gray’s fault. There was this flashing… What?… He doesn’t?”

  Meredith’s fingers stopped moving in his hair. “You don’t take your Topiramate?”

  He opened his eyes to see her scowling down at him. How could someone so sweet look so scary? “I take it,” he defended. “Just not every day.”

  “Ugh! And here I thought it was Oscar’s toy that nearly killed you.”

  “It wasn’t Oscar’s toy… I mean, the toy didn’t help, but—”

  “Starting now, you are taking that medicine every single day.” She wasn’t scowling anymore. She was glowering.

  “I can’t write when I take it every day.”

  Meredith opened her mouth to speak. Then she closed it. Her gaze shifted to the right, and Gray realized she was listening to Bax.

  “What are you telling her, Bax? Mind your own business.” A spark of fear lit through him. Would his brother say anything about the tumor? The thought of her knowing made him cringe.

  “Yes, I can… That’s no problem… I have class in the morning at eight o’clock… Sure… Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  Meredith ended the call. She didn’t know about the tumor. He could tell by the look on her face. Something Bax said left her surprised, but she didn’t look shocked, and she wasn’t regarding him with pity.

  “What the hell did he say?”

  Meredith blinked a few times. “He said he was going to call Dr. Cates to see about getting you in for another scan—”

  “Bastard.”

  “And he’s going to be here in the morning to make sure you’ll go—”

  “God dammit.”

  “And he asked me to stay here tonight to keep an eye on you.”

  Gray swallowed. He had no curse at the ready for this news. A whole night with Meredith. If his head weren’t already in her lap, the thought alone could make him dizzy. But, surely, she wouldn’t choose to be burdened with that. And what about her son?

  “That’s not necessary.”

  Above him, Meredith rolled her eyes. “Gray, you just had a seizure, and you’re off your meds. I think it’s necessary.”

  “I’ll be o—”

  “I’m staying.” The ring of finality in her voice left no room for argument. Of course, Gray didn’t want to argue. He wanted her to stay.

  And he wanted to sleep.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “I need to get into bed.”

  Meredith nodded. “Let me help you. Oscar, you stay here with the dogs. I’ll be right back.”

  The toddler nodded but never took his eyes off Vulcan and Juno.

  Gray commanded the dogs to stay before Meredith tucked her hands underneath him and helped him to sit. His head throbbed, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

  She stood. “We’ll put you to bed, and then I’ll get your meds squared away. Do you have any prescriptions for pain?” She bent down and braced him under the arm. Gray managed to get to his feet, hating the fact that it would have been impossible without her.

  “I have Oxy, but I don’t like taking it.” Cinderblocks had to be chained to his legs, the way his feet dragged as he walked. Meredith wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him her shoulder, which he used.

  “Nausea?”

  Gray shook his head. “No. I’m too out of it to write. I just take OTC meds for the pain — unless it’s unbearable.”

  “Well,” she said, stepping him through the door of his bedroom. “I don’t think you’ll be doing much writing anymore today. Want one?”

  “Nah… I need to sleep now, but I’ll feel better in a few hours,” he said, hoping he was right. “You’ll see.”

  She raised a skeptical brow, but they’d arrived at the edge of his bed. Before Gray could do it, Meredith pulled back the blankets and gestured for him to get in. He felt like a child. Or a very old man. But he kicked off his shoes and sunk into the bed. She pulled up the covers and tucked the blankets around him.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “I hadn’t been tucked in since I was six years old, and you’ve done it now twice in as many weeks.”

  Leaning over him, Meredith giggled. She smelled wonderful, like satsuma blossoms, a promise of spring. Her scent and her laughter chased away his embarrassment and maybe even a little of the dread at Bax’s sudden visit. He didn’t want to think about having another scan. And what it might show.

  Meredith disappeared and returned all in the span of a long blink. She pressed a glass of water into his right hand and dropped two Aleve in the left.

  “Take this. I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GRAY SLEPT FOR three hours without moving once.

  Meredith knew this because she’d watched him almost the entire time. Baxter Blakewood had been very clear. If Gray had another seizure, she’d need to call 911 immediately.

  Brooke had come to her rescue — again — bringing a change of clothes and moving Oscar’s car seat into her truck. Between Brooke and her sisters, Oscar would be in excellent hands until Leona and Big Jim got home or Jamie bothered to call her back.

  Her best friend had only been inside Gray’s house a total of three minutes, but it was enough time for her to declare it “freakin’ awesome… like Olivia Pope’s place but for a guy,” before hoisting Oscar onto her hip and jetting out the door. Meredith thought the house gave off more of a Rick Castle vibe, but to each her own. No matter what, it was stylish, but comfortable, and it suited Gray Blakewood perfectly.

  She thought as much as she curled up in a toffee-brown arm chair in the corner of his room. The psych textbook in her lap normally would have fascinated her, but not while Gray was in the sight. Even asleep, he captured all her attention.

  When he’d rested in her lap, she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off him. His dark waves were softer than they looked. Their caress against her fingers had been irresistible. She’d loved watching his eyes close as she stroked his hair.

  Bending forward and pressing her lips to his would have been so easy. And so wrong…

  She yanked her mind from this fantasy when Gray lifted his head and squin
ted at her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Um… homework.”

  Gray’s eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned up. “But you were looking at me.”

  Meredith felt her cheeks heat. He must have thought she was so weird, waking up to find her in his room a second time now.

  “I-I was worried you might have another seizure. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

  His half-amused, half-doubtful expression held. “I’m not going to have another seizure.”

  She arched a brow at him. “You don’t know that.”

  “I’ve never had two in one day.”

  He was her boss. Best not to argue with him. Certain she was being dismissed, Meredith closed her book and stood. “Can I get you anything? Lunch? Something to drink?”

  It was now after three o’clock. She’d helped herself to a banana right after Brooke left, but that was hours ago. Meredith was hungry, so, unless he was nauseated, Gray had to be close to starving.

  “I’ll get up and have something in a minute.” He raised a hand and rubbed his forehead, frowning.

  “Let me get it for you.” She expected him to say no, so she quickly appealed to his logic. “Save your strength for writing.”

  He eyed her for a moment, hesitating. “Have you eaten?”

  Meredith shrugged. “I had a snack earlier. I’m good.”

  “A snack,” he echoed, regarding her with suspicion.

  “Yeah,” she said, unwilling to elaborate. Gray watched her for a moment, his eyes amused but penetrating. She felt he could see each of her thoughts.

  “Why are we both pretending we’re not hungry?” he asked finally.

  Meredith couldn’t help her grin, but she spoke the truth. “Because you don’t want me to wait on you.”

  “And you don’t want to eat if I don’t.” He spoke truth, too.

  They stared at each other for several seconds. “Please make us each a plate of that spaghetti and come back here with me.” His voice pitched low. He’d said “please,” but Meredith understood he did not want her to refuse. She also understood that his pride was at stake.

  She would never refuse.

  “I’d be glad to.” She walked up to his bedside table and collected his glass of water. Before she could stop herself, she reached forward and ran the fingers of her left hand over his forehead. “How’s your head.”

  He shut his eyes and tilted his head back against the headboard. Gray made a noise in the back of his throat that told her the touch brought relief. She put down the glass and took his head in both hands.

  “Does massage help?” she asked softly, rubbing her thumbs across his hairline and her fingers against his temples.

  A sigh escaped him. “I don’t know.” But his voice was just a whisper, as if that were all he could manage. He didn’t open his eyes or make any move to stop her, so Meredith sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

  “Let’s find out.” She ran her fingers into his hair, rubbing his scalp with gentle pressure. His breath deepened, and Meredith watched the small muscles on his forehead and around his eyes relax. She marveled at his will to steer away from opioids when he so clearly suffered.

  When she bent her fingers and let her nails scratch lightly against him, he made a sound he abruptly halted, like a swallowed moan. Even if it didn’t stop his pain, she knew it had to feel good, and a delicious satisfaction made her smile.

  But making him feel good was more than satisfying. It was fulfilling and intoxicating all at once. Touching him felt amazing, but it felt dangerous, too. It stirred her all the way down her chest and deep into her belly. Resting with his eyes closed, his male beauty was hers to drink in. After his seizure, he’d had his head in her lap for a good fifteen minutes, but she’d been so terrified and worried about him, she couldn’t spare a thought about how attractive he was.

  But now, there was no ignoring it. His beauty was classic. It reminded her of the way she’d pictured Theseus or Perseus when she’d read Greek mythology in middle school. A heroic handsomeness. Dark eyelashes that fanned out just above his cheekbones and full lips softened his brilliance just enough to keep him from looking too severe and imposing.

  This close, she could appreciate that he was the handsomest man she’d ever met. Thinking exactly that, she moved her fingers to the nape of his neck, and he opened his eyes, looking straight into hers.

  His were a shocking blue, and, even with his pupils as wide as they were now, she felt arrested. He’d caught her staring — again — and she needed to look away. Meredith could keep her mouth shut some of the time, but Brooke often said her face was like an open book.

  “You are b—” he began but stopped. She watched him seal his lips shut and work his jaw before starting again. “—bound to be an excellent nurse. Are you this kind to everyone?”

  Meredith thought of Jamie and gently withdrew her hands. “Hardly,” she said, getting to her feet.

  “Then that makes me lucky,” he said, those potent blue eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you. That helped.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, picking up his glass again and backing toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  But Meredith needed more than a minute. Every inch of her skin thrummed with energy, and it took several deep breaths for the feeling to pass. She needed to be more guarded. More careful. Touching him… cradling him… looking into his eyes. She wanted to do those things for all the wrong reasons. He said she’d make an excellent nurse, but no nurse worth her salt would allow herself to cross the line of professionalism Meredith could easily picture crossing when it came to Gray Blakewood.

  Besides, she reminded herself as she served their plates and buttered French bread, she had no business crushing on anyone. She had… done things… with Jamie just last night. What did that make her? What kind of woman shared a bed with the father of her child one night and then stared longingly into the eyes of another the next day?

  “A slut,” she muttered aloud.

  “What’d you say?” Gray called through the open bathroom and utility room.

  Startled, Meredith said the first thing that came to mind. “I-I said ‘it’s hot.’” She immediately reached for the oven and turned on the broiler.

  “What’s hot?”

  “The broiler. I’m making garlic bread.”

  A second later, she heard a soft “Yum” come from his bedroom, as though he’d said it just to himself. And then, low and gentle, “Be careful in there.”

  Meredith set down the butter knife and went completely still. It had been years, years, since anyone other than Brooke had told her to be careful. She closed her eyes, gripped the edge of the counter, and let herself feel it. The blessing of care.

  It was something she’d taken for granted growing up. Until it was gone. Meredith Ryan would never take it for granted again. And hearing the words from Gray made her all kinds of weak, so it was another few minutes before she could finish the garlic bread.

  She found a set of crawfish trays in the long cabinet by the stove and loaded each with a plate, a napkin, silverware, and a glass of water. Balancing each carefully, Meredith returned to Gray’s room and placed a tray in his lap. “Here you go. I should have made a salad and some tea, but—”

  “Stop,” he said, eyeing her sternly. “You cooked all morning. Don’t you dare think this isn’t wholly phenomenal.” He picked up his fork and twirled it through the pasta and sauce. Meredith turned to carry her tray back to the chair in the corner before he stopped her.

  “Where are you going?”

  She glanced back to see him holding his loaded fork midair. “I’m going to sit down.”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “Uh, no. If I’m eating in bed, so are you. Otherwise, it’s just pathetic.”

  Giggles erupted from her unchecked. He couldn’t be serious. “You’re joking.”

  With his index finger, he jabbed at the spot beside him on the bed. “Come here.”
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  Meredith sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move.

  “We’ll sit together here and have a picnic on this mattress or we’ll sit together in the kitchen.”

  He was totally serious. And she was not about to make him get up. Meredith kicked off her ankle boots and climbed with her tray onto the foot of his bed, but she settled herself there by his blanketed feet. Leaning on the headboard next to him was out of the question. Way too intimate. And it would be too easy to touch him again.

  She crossed her legs and rested the tray in her lap. He held his fork aloft until she picked up her own. Then he took a bite. Meredith watched him close his eyes.

  “My God, woman. Where did you learn how to cook?”

  She smiled but gave a little sigh. “I would love to say my mom taught me, but really, I learned from Leona.”

  Gray took another bite, chewed, savored, and swallowed. “Who’s Leona?”

  She’d just tasted her first bite, and she had to admit that her spaghetti sauce was better than any her mother had ever made. The secret was fire-roasted tomatoes.

  “Leona is Jamie’s mom.”

  Interest lit Gray’s eyes. “And she taught you to cook?”

  Meredith executed an eye roll. “Well, taught makes it sound so… nurturing. Belittled and chastised might be better terms.”

  Gray’s grim chuckle made her smile against the bitterness. But then she locked eyes with him.

  “Is it wrong to say that about the woman who took me in when my parents threw me out?”

  He lowered his fork and held her gaze. “No. It’s not,” he said gently. “She took in the mother of her grandchild — as she should. She should also be kind to you.” His gentle tone evaporated, and his words made something in Meredith unknot.

  He was right. A part of her had tacitly accepted that since Leona had saved her in her shameful state, poor treatment was no less than she deserved. But that didn’t make sense. Why save someone only to bully them?

  Still, criticizing Leona in front of someone other than Brooke — someone she’d only known for a few of weeks — felt risky.

  “I mean, we have issues, but she’s a wonderful grandmother.” Meredith considered their relationship and shook her head. “I just don’t think I’m the kind of daughter-in-law figure she really wants.”