You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  The nurse gave him a small toiletries kit, and Gray wasted no time brushing his teeth at the compact hospital sink. He only gave his ghoulish reflection the briefest glance.

  In the walk-in shower, the nurse guided him — still dressed — to the wall-hinged bench, and Gray shuddered at the realization that he needed the support. He was relieved to know that the young, dough-faced nurse wasn’t actually going to bath him. Gray sat on the bench while the man showed him how to adjust the temperature and manipulate the showerhead. He also pointed out the red cord dangling from the wall that would summon help if pulled. After he instructed Gray on how to shower without getting his dressing wet, the nurse hung two fresh towels and a clean hospital gown on the adjacent rail, and left him to it.

  It felt weird to strip down and shower while seated, but the hot water was a blessing on his muscles that had been in bed for days. A patch of adhesive on his right thigh was all the evidence that remained of the catheter. Gray had no memory of it being removed, and while that thought alone made him squirm, he was oddly grateful he couldn’t remember.

  Along with the bar of soap, the toiletries kit held a disposable razor, so Gray tried to sort out his stubble by feel. The razor was cheap, and the soap and water let him know he’d given himself a few nicks, but as he continued to work and rub his fingers across his cheeks and chin, he felt like he must have done a decent-enough job.

  By the time he shut off the water and dried himself, Gray felt wondrously clean and completely exhausted. He’d only been awake for a couple of hours, but the meal and the shower had been enough to do him in. As soon as he managed to make himself decent and tie the fresh gown around himself, Gray called for Baxter in his zombie’s voice.

  “You’d better be dressed in there,” Bax said as he walked in. Without his phone, Gray had no choice but to attempt speech.

  “Eth, atho.”

  “No call for rudeness,” Bax uttered under his breath. He grasped Gray by the elbow, spotting him as he walked back to the bed. Balance was better on this trip, but his muscles felt totally drained. The nurse — or someone — had changed the sheets while he showered, and although the institutional synthetic material wasn’t exactly comfortable, it did feel better to return to a bed with fresh linens. Gray wondered how long he’d have to stay in the hospital. Already, he knew he’d be able to rest so much better at home. He guessed he’d at least need to be strong enough to shower solo before they discharged him.

  As his head settled onto the thin, foam pillow, Gray texted his brother.

  Gray: Wake me as soon as she gets here. I don’t want to miss anything.

  Bax just rolled his eyes, but he wore a suppressed grin. It was the last thing Gray saw before sleep claimed him again.

  “SON, WAKE UP.”

  His dad’s gentle voice came to him through a dreamless haze.

  “Gray, Meredith’s on her way up. Do you want to see her?” This time his mother spoke, and at her name, his eyes shot open.

  His parents stood over him, and a quick scan of the room told him Bax had gone. His mother eyed him with a worried frown, and his dad just watched him closely. Gray regretted Bax’s absence. His realized he much preferred Bax’s ball-busting to this fretful hovering.

  “Wha… Baq…?” he tried. The crease in his mother’s frown deepened as she clearly didn’t understand him, so he felt around along the bed until he came up with his phone.

  When his mother read the text, she smiled. “He’s gone back to your house to take care of the dogs and get some rest,” she said, beaming with pride. “That boy stayed with you all day yesterday and through the night. He was about to tip over when we got here.”

  Gray checked the time on his phone. It was almost eleven-thirty. He guessed he’d been asleep a little more than three hours. His phone also showed a couple of missed texts from Meredith, the latest less than three minutes old.

  Meredith: I’m in the parking lot. Should I come up?

  “I’ve already let her know she’s welcome,” Dahlia said, smiling. “She texted me a minute after she sent that to you.”

  Gray nodded his thanks, and before he could do anything else, a soft knock issued from the door.

  Lowell Blakewood moved across the room as Gray raised the head of his bed, his heart beginning an obnoxious thumping in his chest.

  He took one look at her, and the organ somersaulted. My God, she’s beautiful.

  She stepped in carrying a cloth grocery sack, her eyes slightly wary as she took in the crowded room.

  “Come in, come in,” his father said, coaxing her toward Gray’s bed.

  Gray couldn’t take his eyes off her. He cursed his crippled tongue and the part of his brain that had dared to forget her.

  “Dahlia and I were just going to step out for some lunch,” his father was saying. “Would you consider staying with Gray until we return?”

  Moving toward him, her eyes met his. Gray’s mouth was so dry, he couldn’t even smile, but he made himself nod — like a hyperactive bobblehead. At this, he watched the corners of her mouth tip up. Just barely.

  “Um… sure,” she said, her voice tiny. “I can stay.”

  The relief he felt was startling. That and the naked joy. They had an hour at least. He locked eyes with his father and silently pleaded for him to take his mother to a long, lazy Sunday lunch.

  His mother leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Text us if you need anything, darling.” The pinched and worried look in her eyes told him that his dad might not succeed — if he had, indeed, received Gray’s message. “Have a nice visit.”

  When his mom took only two steps toward the door, Gray’s father walked to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, steering her out. “See you in a little while,” he said, nodding meaningfully to Gray in a way that let him know he’d do his best.

  Finally, he managed to smile, and he turned it toward her.

  “I brought you some lunch,” she said, holding up the green, cloth bag.

  Gray knew he could make the “th” sound, but not without a little cascade of spittle leaving his mouth. He took up his phone, waved it to her with intention, and typed.

  Gray: Thank you.

  Gray: You didn’t have to do that.

  He sent the two texts and watched her fish her phone out of her purse.

  She smiled at him in earnest this time. “It’s nothing fancy.” She set the bag down on the rolling tray table on the left side of his bed. Meredith took out a plate coated in Saran wrap and a bundle wrapped in foil. “Just a panini sandwich and some Rice Krispy treats.”

  Gray’s heart gave a lurch. He’d assumed the reusable grocery bag meant she’d stopped at Rouse’s or Albertson’s on her way to see him. But no. She’d cooked for him. He remembered Bax mentioning her cooking. His fingers flew over the screen.

  Gray: I hear I like your cooking.

  He watched her cheeks color as she read the message. When she didn’t respond, he pressed.

  Gray: Is that true?

  The color, an alluring pink high on her cheeks, deepened. “Yes, I suppose so,” she demurred. Then she shifted the attention from her and held up the sandwich. “Hungry?”

  Gray took it without hesitation. He peeled back the foil and saw with relief that the pressed sandwich, with its grill marks etched into the golden sourdough crust, was already cut in two. He lifted one half and handed it to her.

  “No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head.

  His hands were full, so he couldn’t pick up his phone. Instead, he pressed the sandwich closer to her and raised an eyebrow.

  At this she laughed, a magical sound that brushed down his neck and made every hair on his body stand at attention. “You always do that,” she said, reaching forward and taking his offering. “You always make me eat with you.”

  An inexplicable happiness welled up in his middle, and he smiled with it before taking a bite. Provolone cheese, ham, and tomato — all melted together and somehow still warm — conq
uered his manners, and he moaned in surprise and gratitude. How could a simple sandwich taste so good? The bread must have been brushed with olive oil and… What was that? Rosemary? And Gray thought he detected the faintest hint of brown mustard mingled with the cheese.

  Smiling at his response, Meredith took her own bite, and a stretchy piece of cheese chased after her until she broke it, giggling. She reached into her green bag, produced a handful of napkins, and handed him one first.

  “Brooke’s mom has a panini press. When I’m at her house, this is all I eat if Mrs. Cormier isn’t cooking.”

  Gray wiped the fingers of his right hand before he could respond to her.

  Gray: It’s delicious. I wish I could say that aloud. My speech is embarrassing.

  She read the text, and her eyes softened. Meredith shook her head gently. “You don’t ever need to feel embarrassed in front of me.” The declaration seemed to surprise them both. Meredith put down her half of the sandwich and grabbed the plastic water pitcher off his tray. “Would you like some water?”

  Before he could answer, she was already filling two of the little disposable cups by his bedside. When he took the cup from her, their fingers brushed, and an electric charge snaked up his veins.

  Their eyes met, and Gray was almost certain she’d felt it too. He finished the final bite of his panini and drained the cup of water. He tried out his voice.

  “Tho… glo… kood.” His face burned, but Meredith didn’t laugh or eye him with pity.

  “So good?” she asked, looking pleased.

  He nodded. “Eth.”

  “Yes,” she echoed, her voice just a whisper. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”

  And though she smiled, Gray saw that her eyes were shining. She stood beside him, her sandwich forgotten, and he noticed then the way her fingers shook as she touched the lowered guardrail at his bedside.

  Gray scooted over and patted the space beside him. He watched her swallow hard, and she shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”

  “P-pa,” he tried. He wanted her near him. In truth, he wanted her to lie beside him. Every second with her removed any trace of doubt. His memory was the only part of him that didn’t know Meredith. Everything else in his being screamed for her. Gray had never known anything like this sensation of boundless need.

  “Please?” she asked, frowning slightly as she tried to understand him.

  “Eth.” When he saw on her face that she considered giving in, he put out his hand.

  Meredith took it and sat facing him. Her hip pressed into his, and a tightness he’d carried from the moment he awoke from surgery simply released. He let himself sigh as he squeezed her hand in relief.

  Like he had the day before, Gray spread open her hand and traced each contour with his thumb and fingers. This time, he knew its delicate shape and silken texture, so he wasn’t running his fingers over her palm to learn her. He touched her so she would know something of the desire and desperation that coursed inside him.

  The woman beside him was in love with him. He was certain of it. And he didn’t need memory to tell him he was in love with her. Whoever she was, he loved her. It didn’t take faith. Faith was something a man felt when he wasn’t certain. Gray Blakewood was certain he loved Meredith Ryan.

  Wordlessly, he locked eyes with her and leaned forward, tugging on her hand so that she met him halfway, and, before she could pull back, before he could wonder if she thought he looked part mummy, Gray kissed her.

  He knew it wasn’t their first kiss, but whenever that was, it couldn’t have felt better than this. Her lips were soft and yielding under his, and he held himself still for an instant, learning her heat, her delicious scent. When he cupped the back of her neck with his hand, Meredith tilted her head just a little and opened for him.

  And with that, Gray was gone.

  The kiss overtook him, and he overtook her. Because here, in this space, with their two bodies pressed together and their mouths locked, there was no need for words, no room for memory. Gray could tell her everything he wanted her to know with fingers, lips, and tongue. That little muscle that had failed him in speech seemed to have no trouble at all making itself understood against Meredith’s sweet and welcoming one.

  His fingers spread into the sweep of her hair, and he felt the crush of her breasts against his chest, igniting him. The kiss was a homecoming, and Gray knew by the way her hands fisted into the synthetic fabric of his hospital gown it wasn’t just his homecoming. In the passion of her kiss, untamed and immediate, he felt, too, her unexpected relief.

  Gray squeezed her tight and ran his palms along her back, certain that they had passed some kind of test. Whatever hardships his medical conditions had placed in their way — memory loss, speech impediment, and God knew what else — they would overcome them. Together.

  But for now, he needed to get a hold of himself. A nurse would walk in any minute. For the second time that day, Gray wished he were home. Gently, breaking the kiss with half a dozen little kisses, he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  They were dark and dewy above her radiant smile, and Gray surrendered to his own full-tilt grin. He raised the head of the bed a little higher, pulled her down, and tucked her against him so she was now wrapped in his arm, her head against his shoulder. With his free hand, he grabbed his phone and held it so the screen faced both of them.

  Gray: Have I told you that I love you?

  She gave a little gasp, and when Gray peered down into her face, he saw her eyes were wide and shining again. Meredith met his gaze and nodded. “Yes, you have,” she whispered.

  Gray: Good. Because it’s true.

  He felt her breath speed up. She put a hand against his chest, and her brows drew up in worry. “But, Gray… you don’t remember me,” she said, the anguish in her voice just barely in check. “How can you think that?”

  Gray’s thumb sped over the little screen.

  Gray: I don’t think it. I feel it. I love you.

  He watched her bite her bottom lip as her eyes welled.

  Gray: All I want is to learn everything about you.

  She read the text and wiped her eyes. “I was afraid you’d see things differently this time around,” she said, sniffling. “That you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

  He eyed her mutely.

  Gray: You still want me?

  His arm tightened around her as she read, and Meredith half choked, half laughed. “What? Are you kidding?” Her eyes found his, and her face grew serious. “I want nothing else.”

  He gave her a smirk.

  Gray: Even if I always talk like a Wookiee?

  She frowned at the words on his phone before she burst out laughing. “You do not sound like a Wookiee,” she scolded, still laughing. “But, yes, no matter what you sound like, no matter if you never remember the other day in the bathtub, I’ll still want you.”

  Gray’s eyelids fluttered in shock. He couldn’t make his thumb type fast enough.

  Gray: Bathtub???

  Meredith turned a mischievous smile up at him. She took his face in both of her hands and gave him a hard, fast kiss before pulling back and meeting his gaze.

  “I think catching you up on us is going to be a lot of fun.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  GRAY DOUBLE-CHECKED the folder. Everything was there. Brooke and Becca had totally come through for him.

  He skipped down the stairs of his parents’ house and stepped into their living room. Meredith and his mother sat on the Persian rug. Oscar and his new green dump truck were sprawled out on the floor between them.

  Meredith’s eyes found his, and she smiled. Gray never got tired of it — the way her face lit up when she saw him. Each time, he could feel his heart knock fast against his chest, and he’d think about the first time he laid eyes on her.

  Both of them, actually.

  How both moments had left him jealous of his brother. How beautiful and unattainable he’d thought she was. How mu
ch he’d wanted her.

  “Ready to go?” Gray asked, speaking slowly and carefully — as he always did now — so the words came out as they were supposed to. Or close enough.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Beside her, his mother’s smile lit with undisguised mischief, and Gray had to glare daggers at her before looking back at Meredith. He kept his face as blank as possible.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Meredith dipped her chin and raised a brow at him. “A surprise?” She’d just finished her summer session of classes three days before, and Gray had casually suggested a trip to New Orleans — to enjoy the city and lounge by his parents’ pool with Oscar.

  He just hadn’t mentioned the part about the passport office.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He offered her a hand to help her up.

  She blinked. “That’s all the detail I’m getting?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he repeated.

  Smiling widely now, she took his hand, and Gray tugged her up.

  “Oscar, I’m taking your mom out for a little while, and you’re going to stay here with Dolly,” he told the toddler.

  Gray’s mother beamed, still over the moon about the name Oscar had given her.

  “If you want to, we’ll go for a swim,” Dahlia said.

  “Wiff wings?” Oscar asked, hesitant. He wasn’t exactly afraid of the water, but he didn’t trust it yet, something Gray expected would change over the next two weeks.

  Gray’s mother nodded easily. “Absolutely. You can wear your water wings, and I think Papa Lowell bought a few pool toys.”

  That did it.

  “Toys?” Oscar got to his feet, and before he could get any further, Meredith scooped him up and planted a kiss on his cheek.