Grayson (17 page)

“Ma'am, we have to go,” the first man said gently.

I brought my forehead down to Grayson’s, unable to contain my choking noises. “Don’t worry, Grayson. I’ll see you at the hospital.” 

I forced myself to pull away as they loaded him into the ambulance. Just like that, the doors slammed shut and he was gone. The loss was eviscerating. I turned away with a brittle cry, feeling what was left of my control leak from my body. I now noticed the pedestrians shooting me pitying glances. I didn’t give a flying fuck what they thought.

Still confused about what had gone on, I dragged my sleeve across my eyes, trying to pull myself together. I marched through the gate, rage rolling like a hurricane through me. I wanted answers.
Those fucking idiots! I’d told them to come next week!
I would have been here! What the hell had they been doing upstairs?

I marched up to the man who was still idling by the dumpster and glared hotly.

“Why the hell are you here? This pickup was scheduled for next week!”

The man looked at me as if I had two heads, shrugged, and then jerked his thumb toward the house.

“Talk to the boss, lady!”

Knowing I’d get nowhere with him, I stalked into the house, needing to release my blazing fury and to get answers. I pulled up short when I saw Charles standing in my oasis, leaning on my table and chatting casually on his cell phone. Just the sight of him there whipped my already careening anger into a maelstrom. He didn’t belong there. He was contaminating the space. The space that belonged to Grayson and me. Immediately, I had my answers.

I marched directly up to him, my hands curled into fists at my side and my nails punching holes in my skin.

“
You fucking bastard!
” I spat at him.

He regarded me with calm detachment, and then signed off of his phone. He didn’t seem surprised to see me or concerned in the least by my presence.

“How could you do this?” I demanded.

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me hard, his blue eyes like chips of raw marble.

“Do
what
?” he asked haughtily. “My father is a sick man. He attacked two men today. He needs help. Now he’ll finally get the medical care he needs.”

I gritted my teeth. “
That’s bullshit!
Grayson is
not
dangerous! He was most likely provoked. What would you do if men just walked into your home?”

He paused for a moment, regarding me calmly. “Anyone in their
right mind
would try to ascertain why they were there. My father is
not
in his right mind.”

It all suddenly unfolded and I saw things clearly. And what I saw sickened me.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You rescheduled the pickup and orchestrated this entire scenario. You told them to go upstairs. You did this to get back at him—
me
.”

His top lip turned up with a snarl.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Angie. You’re not
all that
.”

“How could you do this to your own father?” I asked softly, my voice splitting with pain and disbelief. “He was doing well. He was making progress. I was—”

“You were
what
? Helping him?” A snide laugh shook from his throat before he suddenly exploded. “
I hired you to clean my house, not fuck my father!
”

His angry words bellowed across the room, blowing over me like a furious gust of wind. His voice was loud and seething with venom. My lips tightened angrily, but I struggled to remain calm. I had to somehow appeal to him as a son, as a human being. I had to do everything I could to help Grayson.

“Charles, he—”

“He needs to be locked up in an institution where he can get help.” Charles said sternly, his face red with rage. A thick vein bulged in his forehead.

My heart sank to the floor. It dissolved and melted right through me. The tears came again. I couldn’t stop the rushing torrent. I hated the desperate helplessness that scooped away chunks of my fortitude. My gaze landed on the cup of coffee waiting on the table behind him, and blistering pain sliced through me. “Please, Charles…don’t do this.”

His offensive gaze molested my breasts, causing my stomach to lurch.

He leaned in close to me, unmoved by the fact that I was collapsing in front of him and intoned his words slowly, deliberately.

“Unless you are willing to get on this table, spread your fucking legs, and give me some of what you so willingly gave my father, this discussion is over.”

I didn’t recognize the person in front of me. I couldn’t believe his cruelty, his malevolence. I’d been a fool to think of him as just a lazy, rich kid. I’d grossly underestimated him.

“Charles, please…” I begged.

“Get the fuck out of this house.”

I shuddered with rage, hatred coiling inside me like a cobra. I wanted to strike, to lash out at this monster in front of me. I wanted to dig his eyes out of his skull with my fingernails. I straightened my spine and regarded him, profoundly disgusted. “You’re a fucking piece of shit! Nothing but a spoiled, repugnant, self-indulgent brat! You will
never
be even half the man your father is!”

He sighed wearily, seeming infinitely bored. I turned and walked away, the sight of him sickening my stomach. I heard his voice call after me.

“
By the way, you’re fired!
”

CHAPTER NINE

I waited for three hours in the waiting room at the hospital before they let me see Grayson, and they only allowed it because I’d lied and said I was his cousin. I knew Beth, the nurse who was on duty, so she didn’t give me a hard time about coming onto the unit after visiting hours.

The psych ward at Washington Memorial was a locked unit. Visitors had to check in and out, and visiting hours were restricted. I had to leave all of my personal items in a locker before I was allowed in. I made my way down the white sterile halls, following Beth. My sneakers sang a dull echo on the worn linoleum, a sound that reverberated loudly in my head. Beth pushed opened the door to his room and gave me a sad smile.

“You have one hour,” she said before turning away.

“Thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder, already bounding toward the bed.

Grayson was still heavily sedated, but at least the restraints had been removed. I sat on the edge of the bed and took his large hand in mine, noting the moist chill of his skin. I inhaled a deep breath, centering the sharp anguish stabbing like knife blades through my belly. I’d had some time to calm my anger while waiting to see him, but now witnessing him like this flooded me with wrenching despair. His eyes were closed and his face appeared to be relaxed, but his muscles still jumped with involuntary twitches. The skin stretched across his countenance was flushed with blood and there was slight bruising at his wrists where he must have fought the restraints.

“Grayson?” I called softly and got no response.

Blinking back tears, I looked around the small, dark room, noting the almost total absence of furniture. Shadows enveloped the space, curling around Grayson’s limp body as if trying to steal him away from me. They dipped and tucked around him tightly, settling into the hollow of his cheeks and snuggling beneath his closed lids. He was a large man so he barely fit in the bed, and his ankles hung off the bottom of the mattress.

I called his name again, yet he remained unresponsive. An agonizing wail sounded in my head, loud and sorrowful at my impotence. Blowing out a long tremulous breath, I settled my head on his chest and listened to the steady drum of his heart. It reassured yet tormented me. I wanted him awake. I wanted to see his blue eyes and experience the thrill of his teasing smile. I wanted my Grayson. I wanted him well. I missed the solid feel of his arms around me.

“I love you, Grayson,” I whispered weakly. “I love you.”

I inhaled deeply, capturing his fragrance in my lungs, and let the tears come. I couldn’t believe I had more left.

Grayson was unconscious for three days. It was the result of whatever sedatives he’d received—and they’d probably given him enough to level a horse. That, combined with the effects of the antipsychotic medication he’d started taken, had knocked him out. I was concerned because when he finally opened his eyes, he remained silent. He refused to say a word. I wondered if in his own way, he was silently protesting his hospitalization.

Grayson didn’t make eye contact or respond to anything I said or did. It hurt my heart deeply to see him in this unnaturally passive state. He was a stubborn man who wasn’t easily managed. I worried about him being in the hospital where he had no control over his life or his environment.

I sat with him for hours, but his mind seemed a million miles away from his body and his spirit detached from his life. Maybe his mind had escaped from this place. Wherever Grayson had retreated to, I knew he wouldn’t truly feel safe until he was back in his house.

A few nights after his admission, I was working another night shift when Beth rang upstairs and asked for me. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t bother to get on the phone. I asked another nurse to cover me and took my break early. I ran down to the psych ward, taking two steps at a time, and almost breaking my neck in the process. I changed quickly from my scrubs to regular street clothes. Hospital uniforms were not permitted on the psych unit. They freaked out some of the patients and caused them to distrust their caregivers, so all the staff and visitors wore regular clothing.

Beth was waiting and greeted me at the door of the ward. She quickly unlocked it and ushered me in. The look on her face sent streaks of icy panic down my back.

“Come with me,” she instructed, already shuffling quickly down the dark hall.

The unit was tormentingly quiet except for a rhythmic thumping that I could hear in the distance. As we walked down the hall, the sound grew louder. When we got to Grayson’s room, I realized it was the origin of the persistent thuds. Two large male orderlies stood outside the door. Their features were impassive, but their ominous presence shot another streak of foreboding through me. Beth nodded solemnly in their direction as we passed.

“I told them to wait,” she informed, pushing open the door.

I thanked her as I rushed in, but my feet froze suddenly when I saw Grayson. My stomach bottomed out and a cold sweat scattered goose bumps on my skin. Grayson was violently pummeling a wall. His large body strained and bulged as he repeatedly hammered his fists against the hard surface. I couldn’t tell if it was the pain of the blows or the thoughts wringing delusions from his brain that twisted his face in agony. A silent suffering wrung his beautiful features with harsh, sloppy lines.

What was going on in his head? Another nightmare with his eyes open?
He was hurting himself. I could already see swelling bloat his hands and discolor the edges of his tightly curled fingers. He looked like he was trying desperately to break out, to shatter the unrelenting wall.

“Gra—Grayson!” I choked out, barely able to catch a breath. “Grayson!” I called louder as he continued to pound. He was someplace very far away, deaf to the sound of my voice.

Fear gripped my body with a strangling hold when he started slamming his forehead against the wall. I was certain he’d crack open his skull. I had to do something. I knew that at any moment the orderlies would burst in and overpower him. The thought of an impending battle churned acid in my empty stomach.

Not wanting to startle him, I took tentative steps toward his large frame, calling his name out as I approached. I reached out and placed my trembling hand on his shoulder and his body jerked hard beneath my touch. I’d never seen him like this. Usually when he had an episode, he was distraught, almost timid and afraid. He’d never done anything to hurt himself. He’d never been aggressive or destructive. This was not the right environment for Grayson. He was probably terrified here. I could see the terrible agony and vulnerability on his face.

“Grayson, please stop,” I whispered, trying desperately to hold back my tears. “Please…”

He continued to hammer his head, his movements becoming more frenzied. His wild hair whipped to and fro. I tried to pull him away from the wall, but I couldn’t budge his taut body. He was as rooted as a giant oak and just as solid. Helpless and at a loss, I sealed the front of my body to his back and slipped my arms around his waist, resting my head between his rippling shoulder blades. Our sandwiched bodies moved as one kinetic force. Every blow ricocheted through me, bashing my hope and depleting more of my strength. I squeezed my eye shut and held on tight.

Just then, the door pushed open and Beth entered, carrying a large syringe topped with a ferocious looking needle. The orderlies followed her in, poised to intervene. I raised a palm, stopping them, my heart turning violently in my chest. The last time Grayson had been sedated, he’d been unconscious for days, and it seemed his condition had taken giant leaps backwards. But we couldn't let him injure himself.

“Grayson, please. I can’t stand to see you hurt. Please stop… this… this is killing me.” I hiccupped behind him, my tears flowing freely now, drenching my face and the back of his shirt.

Abruptly, he halted. His body vibrated in my arms as he turned and grabbed my shoulders roughly. He stared into my eyes, his blue gaze sharp and penetrating as his fingers dug into my flesh. He had the look of a wild animal. I wasn’t afraid. I could never be afraid of Grayson.

“It’s me, Grayson. It’s Angie. I’m on your side.”

It was as though a dam had shattered inside him. His muscles loosened and tension poured out of him. He pulled me roughly against him, clutching my body like a drowning man clinging to drifting wood. His breath was harsh in my ear, but the sound was like the collective rush of angels. I clung to him, thanking God. My fingers laced through his hair and I fisted the damp silky strands. His body was trembling, his weight tremendous against me. I turned to the concerned faces at the door.

“He’s fine now,” I breathe. “Really. Please, don’t. He doesn't need that,” I whispered to Beth, my gaze landing on the sharp needle.

After a moment’s hesitation, Beth nodded and signaled the two men to follow her out of the room.

“They’ll be right outside,” she informed, and I turned away.

Grayson sank to the floor, dragging me down with him. I held on to him as he cradled me in his lap. Despite the previous events, a flicker of hope kindled inside me. This was the first time he’d made eye contact with me since he’d been in the hospital.

“Grayson, please speak to me.”

Eternal silence wrapped around us. I looked into vapid blue eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Sighing, I examined his hands, making sure that no bones were broken, and I tunneled my fingers through his disheveled hair. There was a spot of mild swelling on his forehead, but it didn’t look as though he’d done any serious damage.

He stared straight over my head into the darkness, his eyes haunted and his body rocking us to a melody that only he could hear.

Though I sat with Grayson every day, he still didn't acknowledged my presence. He was buried deep inside himself, shut away from the outside world. During my daily visits, I brought books in and read to him. I rambled on and on about work and school. Knowing his personality and sense of humor, I tried teasing and joking with him. I got nothing but his gravid indifference. He remained in his self-induced catatonia, staring silently into the distance.

It was extremely painful for me to see him like this day after day, knowing the man he really was. I tried not to unleash my despondent tears in his presence, but my heartbreak was renewed each time I saw him. I never saw Charles. As much as he claimed to want to help his father, the bastard never visited once.

There was a small solarium in the psych ward for patients to visit and sit in the sun. I asked Beth if I could take him there. It was relatively quiet since most of the patients chose to spend time in the rec room watching television. She gave consent, but Grayson needed clothes. He only had the one outfit he’d been brought to the ER in and had been mostly wearing hospital issued garments.

I wanted to go to the house to collect some of his clothes for him, but I didn’t know if my security code would still work. After my confrontation with Charles, I seriously doubted it would. I also thought about bringing other items from the house. I knew he felt safe at home, and wondered if familiar objects might help jolt him out of this clinging stupor.   

Determined to get him out of his stuffy room, I decided to stop by the house one day after class. I walked up to the gate and keyed in my code. It didn’t work. I cursed Charles six ways till Sunday and added a few more days for the asshole that he was.

Disappointed, I was about to turn away, when I saw a woman emerge from the house, walking toward the gate. I was more than a bit surprised to see her and wondered what she was doing there. I’d never seen her before. She was an older woman in a tailored skirt suit. She was holding a clipboard to her chest. She shot me a friendly smile as she approached the gate, now noticing me.

“Hi, I used to work in this house, cleaning. I think I may have left some of my things inside,” I said, hoping she’d let me in for a minute.

She walked through the gate and offered me a sympathetic look.

“Sorry, anything you’d left has probably been thrown out. The house is being cleaned out. Contractors are coming to give an estimate on the work next week.” She turned back and looked at the house. “It’s a great house. Too bad it was in such shitty condition.”

“Yeah, it was falling apart,” I agreed, chewing my lip. I wasn’t surprised that Charles had expedited the repairs.

“Hopefully, it will be ready to go on the market by the end of the summer.”

The breath stilled in my lungs. “Go on the market?”

She turned back to me. “Yep. It’s going up for sale. It should have been done already, but we kept running into snags. There’s already an offer, but it’s a gorgeous house. There should be a lot of interest.” Her smile widened. “That always drives the offers up.”

I nodded, but shock was ringing through me.
How could Charles sell Grayson’s house?

“I’m sorry, but if you need to get in to check for your things, you’ll have to go through the owner, but I doubt that anything is still there,” she said as she walked off.

I hardly heard what she was saying as she left. My mind was doing backward flips and summersaults. Something she’d said struck a chord. Then it dawned on me. Charles had said the same thing, that he was hoping the house would be ready by the end of the summer. My stomach plummeted with realization.