Cassie clutched her iPad to her chest and spoke gently. “It’s normal after brain surgery to feel a number of emotions,” she said, seeming to give him permission to break down. “You may find them hard to control at first.”
Tears blurred his vision, and he blinked them away as fast as he could. With the side of his fist, he wiped the surface of the board. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, Grayson, darling…” His mom swept him into a hug, and the spice of her gardenia perfume, a scent so familiar and ancient and grounding, made a few tears squeeze from his eyes. “…it’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
Tangled up in her arms, Gray felt his father close in on them, clamping a hand on his shoulder and steadying his mother as she wept. He looked up at his dad to find the man’s eyes red and swimming.
“I love you, son,” he rasped. “Thank God we still have you.”
Gray was going to lose it, so he did the only thing he knew how to do. He pulled away, reached for the marker board, and wrote. “Where’s Bax?” If anyone could lighten the mood, it was his baby brother.
Wiping her eyes, his mother beamed. “He’s in the waiting room with that angel, Meredith. They only let you have two guests at time.” She grabbed her husband by the wrist. “Come on, Lowell, let’s give the young people a chance to see him. I’m sure he’d prefer their company anyway.”
Gray’s father patted him again on the leg. “We’ll be back to see you in a bit.” Gray watched him heave a great sigh. “I think this’ll be the first night in two-and-a-half months I’ll sleep all the way through.”
His dad hooked his mom around her shoulders and steered her out of the room, leaving Gray with a list of questions. What had kept his dad awake a month before his diagnosis?
And had Baxter really brought a girl?
Before he could consider either question, Bax walked in with this girl, and Gray’s breath left him.
Oh God.
With one look, she made beauty new, surpassing anything he’d ever seen. Bax guided her through the room with a hand on the small of her back, and Gray’s emotions got the better of him again, giving him over to irrational thoughts. Bax couldn’t touch her if his fingers were broken.
His brother usually attracted beautiful girls, and Gray had never felt jealous before. It had to be the brain swelling.
Still, why had Bax brought her along? His head was half-shaved. He kept wiping drool from his lip. He was peeing into a bag for Christ’s sake. This was no time to meet a stranger. Gray found himself scowling at both of them.
As they approached the foot of his bed, Bax frowned at his brother, but the girl stopped short, surprise widening her eyes.
“Gray, that’s some bandage,” Bax said with a wince, dropping his hand from the girl’s back and coming over to give him a quick hug. “Glad to see you, man.” His brother drew back, and they locked eyes. “Mom says the talking’s pretty rough. Give it time, brother. We’re all here for you.”
A measure of resentment left him. So what if he was embarrassed about his condition? Bax had clearly been as worried as his parents. His hair was a flyaway mess, as though he’d been running his fingers through it for hours. Maybe he’d needed his new girlfriend’s support. Maybe she’d made the ordeal better.
Gray brought his eyes back to the young woman beside him. Yes, by the looks of her, she’d make even the worst day better.
To his surprise, he realized she hadn’t taken her eyes off him. An odd tugging in his chest made him want to sit up straighter. How wrong would it be to keep ogling his brother’s girl? He looked back at Bax, who seemed undisturbed, almost amused to find Gray checking her out.
Of course, he was amused. His brother was probably as proud as hell to have someone so beautiful in his life. Of course, he’d want to show her off. Bitterness spiked in him, and he busied himself with the guardrail controls, bringing the head of the bed as high as it would go. At least sitting up straight would feel more dignified.
“Gray? You okay?” Bax asked, studying him.
Gray looked from his brother to the girl and saw a thousand emotions pass over her face. Her expression finally settled on something like worry.
“Gray?” she asked, her voice brushing over him like a touch. She took a tentative step forward and placed her fingers on his left hand. A jolt like a power surge moved up his arm.
Did he have nerve damage? He felt sensitized and raw. It unsettled him.
“Are you in pain?” she asked, frowning with genuine concern.
“Nnnn…” he tried before stilling his tongue. He didn’t need to sound like an idiot in front of them. In front of her. Instead, he shook his head.
The girl’s lungs emptied, and she sagged a little. “Oh, thank God.” Before he knew it, she was hugging him. The soft press of her body and the sweet smell of her hair was so arresting, so alluring, Gray almost groaned with longing. Against his will, he folded his arms around her, spreading his fingers to take in the contours of her back. He glanced up to see Baxter’s smug look again. Was this what he got to feel every night?
With that torturous thought, he took the girl by the shoulders and eased her away from him.
“I’m sorry.” She tensed, pulling back quickly, her hands fluttering. “I’m probably hurting you. It’s just that you scared the hell out of me.”
Gray felt his brows lift. He looked at Bax for an explanation.
His brother nodded. “You scared the hell out of all of us. If Meredith hadn’t been with you when it happened, you could be dead right now.”
What?
Bax’s girlfriend had been with him when he’d collapsed? Had the two of them been in town visiting? What the hell?
Gray grabbed the marker board. “Where were you?” He underlined the last word and thrust the board at his brother.
Bax’s head shot back as he read the question, and he gave Gray a confused look. “Me? I was in New Orleans. Where else would I be?”
Gray shifted his eyes between the two of them. They were both watching him with wary expressions. They were eying him, he realized, from opposite sides of the bed. On either side of him. They weren’t standing next to each other. They weren’t touching. They weren’t even looking at each other.
It made no sense.
In his chest his heart kicked into a sprint, and he swiped the surface of the marker board, his right hand now stained red. He wrote as fast as he could before holding up to the board to her.
“Who are you?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
HE WATCHED THE question hit both of them like a blow. Bax’s jaw dropped, and Meredith staggered back.
“Gray…” Bax said, looking at him like he’d just sprouted a horn. “…you don’t know who she is?”
Mute, he shot his brother a look, and then he scribbled furiously. “No! Never met her.”
He held up the board to face his brother, but when Meredith’s eyes fell on the words, her hand shot to her mouth, and her gasp made him wince.
Meredith took two steps back, her eyes locked on him, and then she turned and ran out of the ICU.
Gray flipped his palms up at his brother, waiting for an explanation. When Bax just gaped at him, he scrubbed the board again. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Bax’s eyes bugged. “No, Gray, she’s yours.”
Mine?
If Bax had told him he’d been in a coma for ten years, he couldn’t have been more astonished. His girlfriend? Since when? She was beautiful, and he was attracted — ridiculously attracted — but he could find nothing familiar about her. Nothing that triggered even a hint of a memory.
“Dude, you just fucked up,” Bax said, pulling a face.
And then Gray thought of the look of devastation in her eyes and the way he’d wanted to break Baxter’s fingers when he came in touching her. The way she’d felt in his arms. Her smell.
Oh shit.
Gray jabbed a finger at the door and then pointed sharply beside him. “Guh huh…”
He couldn’t write fast enough. “Get her!”
Bax nodded. “Right. Be right back.” Then he was gone.
Gray fidgeted with the blankets. He ran a hand over his face. His skin felt oily, and he needed a shave. He wanted a mirror in the worst way. But then again, maybe it was better if he didn’t have one. There was no way he’d ever looked worse in his life, given the circumstances.
He waited. And waited.
Fuck.
The beautiful girl was his, and he’d hurt her. How could he not remember her? Gray shut his eyes and pictured her face. Ivory skin. Hair a rich, cascading brown. Eyes darker still. If, in fact, he had seen her before, he would have been a goner from the first moment.
But when had he managed to find her? He’d been working non-stop, racing against the clock to finish his book before the tumor finished him. How had this happened?
Bax walked in with his jaw clenched and his hands running through his hair — again. His father, frowning, followed at his heels.
“Um, so she ran to the bathroom,” Bax said, coming up to Gray’s bedside again. “And Mom’s in there with her… She’s pretty upset.”
“Vuh!” The curse lacked vital consonants.
“Son, what’s the last thing you remember?” Lowell Blakewood asked, concern etched onto his forehead.
Christmas. He’d spent Christmas at his parent’s house in New Orleans, and Bax had driven him home the next day. And… he’d had a seizure in the living room…
“Day after Christmas?” he wrote. “12/26/16?”
Bax’s hands went to his temples. “Shit,” he hissed.
Gray’s stomach dropped. Had he been in a coma for ten years? How much had been erased?
His father’s mouth worked; the man seemed uncertain about leveling with him. Gray jabbed three question marks onto the marker board.
“Son, you’ve lost a little more than a month.”
His eyes shot open. “Aaah maah?”
Bax looked at his watch. “Gray, it’s Saturday, February 4, 2017.”
Gray’s father called to the nurse. “We need to see Dr. Cates. My son’s sustained significant memory loss,” he said, his tone leaving no room for anything but total compliance.
Nurse Cassie grabbed her iPad and approached Gray’s bed, ignoring his father and showing them exactly who was in charge in the ICU. “Retrograde amnesia is very common in patients after brain surgery,” she said evenly. “It’s normal not to be able to recall the hours and even a day or two leading up to the operation—”
“My brother’s lost a whole month,” Bax charged in.
Cassie’s eyes flashed to each man. “That’s…that’s unusual, but it does happen,” she said, making a note on the iPad.
“We need to see Dr. Cates,” Gray’s father repeated, an edge in his voice.
Cassie kept her eyes on the tablet. “I’ll see that Dr. Cates receives the message, but he’s already made rounds today when Mr. Blakewood was still asleep, but he did examine him, and his responses were all well within normal rang—”
“Well, when will he be back?” Lowell Blakewood bit out the words, and Gray was sure Cassie flinched a little.
“He should be here in the morning. Dr. Cates is very consistent.”
Gray watched them go back and forth, but the argument did nothing for him. Sure, he wanted to see Dr. Cates and get some answers to his questions, but he wanted to see Meredith more.
He picked up his board and wrote. “Bax, go find her. Bring her back.”
His brother rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you don’t remember her. This is just how you were about that girl. Obsessed. Do you know you sent me across town to get her take-out crème brulée?”
And with that cryptic remark, Gray’s brother spun on his heel and stalked out.
Lowell Blakewood turned to his son and narrowed his eyes. “Take-out crème brulée?”
Gray shrugged, but his curiosity piqued. What had prompted that particular gesture? And how had she responded?
“You remember nothing since the day after Christmas?” his dad asked. “Nothing at all?”
Gray shook his head. December 26 was yesterday as far as he was concerned. But if there was more than a month missing — a month of meeting and discovering Meredith… Meredith…
What was her last name?
He spelled out the question on the marker board. His father read it and smiled.
“Ryan,” he said. “Her name is Meredith Ryan.”
Gray nodded, grateful. He kept his eyes on the entrance of the ICU. If he’d lost a whole month of discovering Meredith Ryan, he wanted it back. Every minute.
On the heels of this thought, Meredith and Baxter filled the doorway. His brother’s back was to him, and Gray had a clear view of Meredith’s face. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tearstained, but the sight of her looking up at his brother made his stomach clench. It wasn’t jealousy. It was—
Meredith’s eyes locked on his, and he begged her silently.
Please come here.
She broke away from Baxter and crossed the room to him.
Gray’s father glanced between the two of them and ducked his head. “I’ll give you a minute,” he murmured and slipped away.
She stopped by the foot of his bed, and Gray hated the look of pain in her eyes. With her arms crossed over herself, she looked like she was trying to shield her body from harm. A pen and a marker board would not be enough. The power of speech had never seemed so precious, so essential.
“I’m sorry,” he wrote. The words, two dimensional and impermanent, couldn’t convey everything he felt. Blessed. Cursed. Mystified. Desperate.
Meredith shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Her voice was stretched thin, as though it might break at any moment.
Gray wanted to touch her. He needed to touch her. So he reached out his left hand, imploring her to come closer.
She bit her lips and took two steps before stopping again just out of his reach. He wanted her to sit beside him, but the guardrail made it impossible.
Though he couldn’t remember it, Gray knew he must have held her hand every chance he’d had. Without deliberating, he folded forward, the pressure in his head doubling, and he claimed her right hand. She didn’t resist, but he felt what it cost her. And he read it in her eyes. Betrayal. She’d trusted him only yesterday, and now…
Slowly, he leaned back, tugging her with him and making her take the two steps to move closer. They watched each other in silence. Who was she?
He looked at the hand in his, turned it over and mapped her palm with his thumb. Her hand was small and fine-boned and lovely. It felt wonderful. And completely unfamiliar.
“You don’t remember me at all?” she asked, seeming to read his mind.
He looked up at her tortured expression, and it killed him to tell the truth. Gray reached for the marker. “No, but I want to.” Then he underlined the want three times. If she spent time with him and told him all about how they had grown to know each other, maybe he would remember. And even if he never did, he’d get to learn about her, which, to Gray’s convalescing brain, seemed pretty great. He didn’t even mind how long that might take. Of course, they couldn’t start just now. Exhaustion saturated him. He needed to sleep again, and soon.
Meredith studied him, frowning. “Maybe it’s better this way.”
“Waah?” She’d shocked him out of his fatigue and silence, and he clamped his mouth shut as soon as the undignified sound left his mouth. He scratched across the board. “Why???”
Her eyes let him all the way in. He saw defeat and disappointment and something like resignation. “Because I’m not right for you,” she said, shaking her head. “My life is a disaster, and you’re better off without me.”
Apart from her name and what she looked like, Gray knew nothing about her, but he couldn’t believe she was right. It didn’t feel like she was right. Gray felt certain that if she walked away in this m
oment, he would not be better off.
He wiped away his question and added a new one: “Would you have said that yesterday?”
She read it and immediately shook her head. “That’s not— I mean— Everything’s changed.”
He felt something then in the pull of her resistance. Not necessarily familiar, but more like… a current. Something he should follow. He wrote as quickly as he could. “Because I have brain damage?”
Her mouth fell open in shock, and Gray sensed his advantage. He let himself smile. In a few minutes he’d learned — or relearned — that Meredith Ryan was selfless. Maybe to a fault. And that made her a challenge. How hard had he had to work the first time?
“No,” she said, frowning and pulling her hand free. “Of course not. Because you have a clean slate. You don’t need me.”
Gray wanted so badly to be able to argue. Even if he could have spoken, he couldn’t explain it, but he had a strong suspicion he did need her. And letting her slip away would be a huge mistake.
“And you’ve given me so much.” She spoke again before he could wipe the marker board clean, and the gratitude in her eyes stilled him.
What had happened between them? What had he given her? What had she needed? Gray found himself proud he’d given it — whatever it was.
“It feels wrong to… stay when you don’t know who I am.”
“What happened?” he wrote, more enraptured by the mysteries of their story than any he’d written or read.
She shook her head rapidly. “If I say it aloud, it just sounds crazy.”
He was right; she was a challenge. And maybe what she wasn’t telling him had been crazy, but Gray had to trust himself. If they’d been together just the day before, then pre-surgery Gray must have been certain Meredith was worth a little crazy.
He made a show of shrugging his shoulders before spelling it out. “Whatever it was, I don’t care.”
It was true. Maybe it was the morphine. Maybe it was the shock of waking up and finding himself attached to a beautiful stranger. Maybe it was the fact that he felt lucky just to be alive. But Gray was happy to simply be with her and find out who she was.
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