You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  For the span of a second, hope got the best of her. She thought he might have remembered her. That he might love her again. But logic beat it back. If he had remembered, Meredith felt sure he wouldn’t say, “Good morning, Meredith.” If he loved her again, Gray would say something like, “Get over here.”

  So Meredith’s thumb shook as it hovered over the screen because she didn’t know what to say.

  Meredith: Hi.

  It was the lamest text in the history of texting, but it was all she felt safe enough to say. That, and her heart was pounding so hard, Meredith thought she might have to sit down on the curb.

  Gray: What are you doing today?

  His question surprised her, and every answer that came to mind was completely unacceptable. She couldn’t say “Crying,” which would have been the truth. And she couldn’t lie and say “Getting a mani-pedi with my friend, Jill,” even though Gray wouldn’t know she didn’t have a friend named Jill.

  Meredith: Studying and stuff.

  As soon as she pressed send, Meredith felt like an idiot. She sounded like she was thirteen. Why couldn’t she have said laundry or bills or shopping?

  Gray: Would you be able to come see me today?

  “Walk, Mama,” Oscar ordered.

  Meredith looked up and realized she’d just stopped in the road.

  “Sorry, Oscar,” she muttered and pushed the stroller forward.

  Meredith: I don’t know.

  She pulled in a breath and let it go. Seeing him would be harder today than it had been yesterday. Yesterday, shock had shielded her — if only a little. But after a night of tears and heartbreak, she felt rubbed raw. She didn’t think she could look at him without losing it.

  Gray: I’d really like to see you.

  When she didn’t respond, he texted again.

  Gray: And I’d come to you, but, you see, I just had brain surgery…

  In spite of herself, Meredith laughed. And it hurt too. Because this was her Gray. This was the sense of humor she recognized, tinged with sarcasm and playful teasing.

  Meredith: I don’t have anyone to watch Oscar.

  His response was immediate.

  Gray: Your son? Bring him.

  So, he knew about Oscar… and he still wanted to see her…

  “Mama! Walk!”

  She’d stopped again. With Oscar’s command, she jumped and got the stroller moving.

  Meredith: I don’t think they allow toddlers into ICU.

  Gray: Not in ICU. They moved me last night to a private room. Toddlers welcome.

  Meredith kept her feet going but stared at her phone. She doubted she could actually sit in a room with him and pretend she wasn’t heartbroken. Making the loop on Shady Oaks, she turned back onto Holden.

  Gray: While you’re deciding, tell me something about us.

  It may as well have been a spear, it pierced her so cleanly. Tears fogged her eyes, and she had to steer Oscar’s stroller up the Cormier’s drive through the blur. She wiped them with the sleeve of his sweater, and when she reached it, Meredith slumped onto the bumper of her car.

  Gray: I’ll go first if you’re shy. You saved my life. Thanks, by the way.

  “Mama, why you cwying?” Oscar looked up at her with a frown, his own bottom lip trembling. She reached forward and unbuckled him from the stroller.

  “I’m just feeling sad, Oscar,” she said, scooping him up and settling him on her lap. “I’ll be okay.”

  Gray: Damn. I just triple texted. Didn’t mean to.

  Meredith hugged Oscar to her and wiped her eyes again.

  Meredith: Sorry. This is just hard.

  Gray: Meredith, believe me, it’s hard for me, too. I want more than anything to remember.

  Fresh tears turned the world liquid.

  Gray: Tell me one thing. Anything.

  Meredith sniffled, and Oscar surprised her by patting her on the cheek. A tearful laugh left her, and she squeezed him tighter.

  Meredith: The first time we met in person, you bought me Mace.

  She found herself smiling at the memory, and his response made her laugh openly.

  Gray: WTF? Why???

  Oscar mimicked her laugh, which made her laugh even more.

  Meredith: You were worried about me walking alone at night.

  He wasted no time replying.

  Gray: Oh. Yeah. I can see that. I hope you carry it.

  He may have lost his memory, but he still had his protective streak. Familiar and comforting, she let herself sink into the feel of it.

  Meredith: I do.

  Gray: Good.

  And then:

  Gray: Please come see me today.

  Meredith was mid-sigh, torn over what to do and how to feel — when the Cormier’s front door opened, and Brooke stepped out in her robe and pajamas.

  “Are you laughing or are you crying?”

  Meredith dried her eyes and gave her friend a sheepish smile. “Both, I think.”

  Wrapping her arms around her against the cold of the morning, Brooke skipped down the steps and headed for them. As soon as he saw this, Oscar squirmed off Meredith’s lap and set off at a run toward her.

  Brooke caught him under the arms and spun him once around. Giggling echoed across the yard, and Meredith rose and pushed the empty stroller toward them. When Brooke set Oscar down at her feet, he begged for more.

  “Hang on, bud. Let me catch my breath. You’re getting bigger every day.” Then she looked up at Meredith and nodded to her phone. “What’s up? Any medical miracles overnight?”

  Meredith shook her head. “I’m still a stranger, but he wants to see me.”

  Brooke raised a hopeful brow. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Meredith said, chewing on her lip.

  Brooke gave a frustrated sigh. “I told you last night, if he fell in love with you once, he’ll fall in love with you again.”

  She’d listed all the reasons last night why Gray might not want to start over with her. Now she tried to sum it up. “You have to admit that my track record of things working out for the best is not great.”

  Brooke closed her mouth and considered this. “C’mon inside. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “YOU DO REALIZE you have to go see him, right?” Brooke said before blowing across her mug.

  Oscar sat between them in his booster seat, going to town on a piece of cinnamon toast Brooke had made for him. Keenly avoiding the bland crust, he’d taken a bite right in the center of the bread, and he now wore a dusting of cinnamon sugar and butter on his nose, cheeks, and chin.

  Meredith shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. It will be even harder today than yesterday.”

  “No, it won’t. The shock was tough, but now you know the score,” she said. “From here on, you can just take it one day at a time.”

  “You don’t get it. I can’t start over with him when I’m this invested.” Meredith struggled to explain. “When you met Rajan, and you were all nervous and flirty and testing the waters, what would have happened if the second day he knew you, you started crying and telling him how much you loved him?”

  Brooke rolled her eyes. “No one’s telling you to do that. All I’m saying is give it—”

  “But that’s where I am. That’s what I feel. It’s too much, and I’m too much. I’ve got all this baggage. Any man would run for the hills.”

  “Gray’s not any man. He’s your man, and he knows it.”

  “No,” Meredith said, shaking her head, “he doesn’t. He knows because his brother told him, but he doesn’t know it because it’s his.”

  “It’s his. You. This. What you have. It’s his, and you have to give him a chance to claim it,” Brooke said, her voice going an octave lower than Meredith had ever heard it. “Look, I get why this has brought out the worst in you, but you’re acting like a selfish, stupid coward, and that’s not who you are.”

  “What?” Meredith felt like she’d been slapped.

  “Serio
usly,” Brooke scolded. “You’re giving up on your relationship because your boyfriend has head trauma? C’mon, Meredith, what kind of sack of shit does that?”

  Meredith’s jaw dropped. “I’m not pulling away because he’s hurt, Brooke. How can you think that?”

  “Because you’re just thinking about yourself and how hard this is on you.”

  Meredith couldn’t believe it, but her best friend — her funny, loyal-as-a-Labrador best friend — looked seriously pissed.

  “The man almost died. He can’t talk, and he’s lost a month of memories. Newsflash, hon, but this isn’t about you. If you think you don’t deserve him and you leave him alone now, then, I’m here to tell ya, you don’t.”

  The words struck, and they struck hard. Because they were awful. And shameful. And true. The pain they brought must have shown on her face because Brooke reached across the Cormier’s kitchen table and clutched Meredith’s hand.

  “Hear me out,” she said, her voice softening. “You had a tough knock yesterday, and it shook you up, and it knocked loose a whole mess of shit you’ve been lugging around since your parents kicked you out, but you are more than that shit. I said you were acting stupid and selfish and cowardly, but nobody who could go through what you’ve gone through and do right by Oscar the way you do could be stupid or selfish or cowardly. You are a hundred times stronger than that.”

  Meredith gripped her friend’s hand because the knot in her throat kept her from uttering even one word.

  “And being strong now is the only choice you have, because if you don’t see this through, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” Brooke said. “We’ve been friends since third grade, so I know what I’m talking about, and if you walk away from him, you’ll never let yourself have anyone good. Because then you’ll know you don’t deserve it.”

  A tear slid down Meredith’s cheek. Brooke squeezed her hand.

  “You’re right. Maybe things won’t work out. Maybe Gray Blakewood, famous author and all that shit, isn’t meant to be your Forever Man,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes at the notion. “But he’s something good, sweetie, and it’s been a long time since you’ve had something good. Throwing it away? You’re not about that life.”

  “Damn,” Meredith swore under her breath, pulling her hand away to wipe her eyes. “When you unload, you don’t mess around. Do you?”

  Brooke laughed and then took a sip of her coffee, wearing what Meredith thought was a proud smile.

  Meredith pulled in a shaky breath. She stared across the table at her friend. “It’ll hurt like hell if he can’t love me again.”

  “Yeah,” Brook said, nodding. “That would suck. But not as much as you never knowing.”

  Meredith made herself take a sip of her coffee. It was warm and sweet and reassuring.

  “I guess I’m going to the hospital today.”

  Brooke nodded. “Rajan and I can watch Oscar if you need.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her best friend raised a brow at her. “But first, you have to change. That sweater looks absolutely ridiculous on you.”

  Meredith laughed.

  “And a shower. I think a shower is in order,” Brooke added, her look of mock concern making Meredith laugh harder.

  Brooke reached across the table and snatched Meredith’s phone.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, lunging after it.

  “Never mind,” she said, pulling it out of her reach. “I’ll take it from here. You just go get ready.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Brooke: This is Brooke. I’ve commandeered Meredith’s phone. She’ll be there later. DON’T HURT HER!

  Gray read the text with a rush of euphoria — followed immediately by a plunge of fear. She was coming back, but he still couldn’t speak to her. And he didn’t know when he ever would. If he ever would. He’d essentially asked her to come visit him when all he could do was stare at her and send her text messages.

  Gray: Hurting her is the last thing I want.

  And then his impatience got the better of him.

  Gray: Later, when?

  Brooke: Jeez. I TOLD her if you were into her before, you’d be into her now.

  Brooke was right. Even without any memories of her before yesterday, Gray was into her and wanted no way out. He thought back on his old girlfriends. Memories of them seemed whole and vivid, but he felt nothing like the pull that drew him toward Meredith Ryan. Evidently, his conscious mind might not remember her, but Gray felt sure that other parts of his being absolutely did.

  Brooke: Dude, it’s not even 8 AM. Give a girl a break. She rolls out of bed looking gorgeous, but everyone can take it up a notch.

  This made him smile. He had no doubt Meredith rolled out of bed looking gorgeous. He wondered if he’d already had the good fortune to witness that firsthand. His next thought concerned his own appearance. He guessed he looked like someone who’d crept out of the grave.

  Bax walked in then carrying a CC’s tray and a promising bundle of paper sacks. Gray let out a groan of thanks.

  “I don’t know if this is allowed, but I don’t think it’ll kill you,” he said, thrusting a blessed grande latte at him. Gray snatched it from his brother and savored the rich aroma. He took a restorative sip, and his stomach growled in response. “I got a chocolate croissant, a blueberry muffin, and a slice of banana nut bread. What do you want?”

  “Aww.” Gray grunted.

  Bax raised an eyebrow. “You can’t have them all. Two out of three. One’s mine.”

  It was too difficult to say that he wanted the croissant and the banana bread, so he gestured for Bax to come closer and open the bags.

  Again, his brother rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re gesticulating now? How is that any less embarrassing than trying to talk?”

  Gray hated to admit it, but Bax had a point. Still, his brother must have been above torturing him further because he opened the bags and allowed Gray to grab his top two picks. The first bite of the banana nut bread was spine-tingling. He was so hungry, he had the second half of the slice in his mouth before the first was down his throat.

  A look of bemused disgust overtook his brother’s face. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

  Swallowing the last of the bread, Gray reached for his phone.

  Gray: When you go two days without eating, then we’ll talk.

  Then he took a swig of coffee and started in on the chocolate croissant. The banana nut bread had taken off just enough of the edge so that he could at least attack the pastry with individual bites instead of shoving the whole thing in his mouth.

  Bax watched him with something like pity. He took the remaining blueberry muffin, broke it in half, and handed one side to Gray.

  “Here. That was just sad.”

  Chagrinned, but still famished, Gray took it from him and made it disappear. He gave a sigh of satisfaction. He was still hungry, but now he at least felt less savage.

  “Let’s agree never to speak of this,” Bax said, only half joking.

  Gray nodded.

  Gray: Thanks. I owe you.

  Bax quirked a brow. “You owe me for a lot more than that.”

  Guessing what he meant, Gray typed on the phone.

  Gray: She’s coming over today. Be honest. How do I look?

  Bax read the text, and Gray watched as his eyes widened and he nodded in grave concern.

  “It’s pretty bad.”

  Remembering that he held a smartphone in his hand, Gray tapped the camera and turned the viewer on himself.

  “Oor Gor,” he muttered. The white dressing wrapped thickly around his head gave him the appearance of a wounded soldier, the air of heroism noticeably absent. On the right side of his head, the ends of his remaining hair stuck out from under the bandage in little tufts that looked both spiky and slightly greasy. On his left side, near the surgery site, no trace of hair remained. He realized the dressing was probably doing him a favor.

  His f
ace had gone a little moonish with swelling, and the skin under his eyes was now a faint violet. His nose shined with oil, and the corners of his mouth had whitened, his lips dry and cracked. A three-day scruff shadowed his jaw, and, despite his hope, the stubble didn’t make him look rough and masculine. Instead, it seemed to make him look and feel dirtier.

  He became aware of his body then. When was the last time he’d showered? When he shifted his legs, his thighs seemed to peel apart like plastic wrap. A stale clamminess coated him, and now that he’d finished breakfast, the foul taste in his mouth couldn’t be ignored.

  Gray: Help me get to the bathroom.

  BAX HAD FLAT-OUT refused to help him out of bed without an attending medical professional. No matter how he’d argued mutely and sent texts that threatened violence, Gray could not convince him to spare him that particular humiliation. When he started to attempt to leave his bed by himself, Bax pushed the call button for the nurse and physically braced Gray to keep him from moving.

  To their shared surprise, a male nurse arrived, and he and Bax helped Gray to take his first tentative, post-surgery steps. Walking felt disturbingly novel. His balance was a little compromised, as though he’d forgotten where his center of gravity called home, but he made it across the room into the little bathroom without risking his life.