Beyond What is Given(74)

Something had to be wrong.

“Grayson.” I knocked on the bathroom door. “Parker’s calling, and it looks important.”

The door opened and steam wafted out as he stepped into the hallway, taking the phone. “Wonder what she’s pissed about now.”

He squeezed my hand and went into his room to call her while I searched for a set of matching shoes in the pile of insanity I called a closet. Two Grecian sandals later, I knocked on his door. “Grayson?”

“Come in.” His voice was tense, curt.

“Everything okay?” I asked as I stepped inside. “What?” He had a bag on the bed and was furiously packing, throwing clothes in haphazardly.

“Thank you, that will work,” he said into the phone, and then hung up.

“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice small.

“Home. I just booked a flight.” He wasn’t looking at me, too busy throwing underwear in the bag.

He zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder. As he walked toward me, he looked right through me, dazed. “Grayson,” I called out, catching him by the hand as he passed me into the hallway. He turned, then looked down at his hand, surprised that I held it.

“What’s going on?” I stroked the rough skin of his unshaven cheek. “Do you need me? Can I help you?”

He shook his head and stepped back, dropping my hand. “That was Parker.”

“Yes?”

He looked back up, his face contorted in shock, and joy, and something indescribable as he backed away. “I have to go, she’s asking for me.”

A sense of foreboding came over me, depleting the room of oxygen and gravity. “Who? Parker?”

“No, Grace. She’s awake.”

He was gone before I could find air to pull back into my lungs.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Grayson


I parked my rental car in the hospital lot. Parker had offered to pick me up at the airport, but I had this inexplicable need for solitude.

The salt in the air tasted like a memory. Dozens of times I’d stood outside this hospital—the morning Mia was born, the day I broke my arm, when Mom had her gallbladder taken out…the night I lost Grace, but I’d never felt this numb.

Or this afraid.

Because I’d been here before, taking the call that she’d woken up. Getting special dispensation to leave the Citadel for the weekend. Rushing to her side to realize that while she’d opened her eyes, she was still comatose.

That was the last time I ever gave a thought to the hope that Grace would return to me.

I took a shuddering breath and entered the lobby, waving at the desk clerk. The elevator dinged, and I stepped inside, and then waited the torturous hours to reach the eighth floor. The doors opened, and I prepped myself to hear that this was a mistake. She wasn’t awake, they’d misinterpreted a blink.

Or hell, maybe I’d wake the f*ck up.

“Gray!” Parker ran toward me, her arms outstretched.

I caught her easily, but her show of affection only cemented that I was in a dream. This wasn’t real. “Hey, Parker.”

She grinned, lighting her face in a way I hadn’t seen in years. “It’s a miracle. Just…a miracle.”

“Right,” I answered.

They were all gathered outside her hospital room—Constance, Joey, Mom, Dad, the Bowdens. Everyone was smiling, slapping me on the back as I walked through the crowd like I’d scored a touchdown at the homecoming game. They all spoke, but only certain words registered.

“Trial program.”

“Stem cells.”

“Miracle.”

“Are you okay?” Mia broke through the haze, standing directly between Grace’s door and me.

“Sure.” Because this wasn’t real.

“Gray.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, and I looked down at her.

“What?”

“Listen. She’s awake, for now. She’s been sleeping a lot, but the doctors say it’s part of the progress. So if she falls asleep on you, don’t panic.”

“She’s been sleeping a lot… But I got the call eight hours ago, Mia. How do they know what is normal?” The fog in my brain started to lift. She’d been awake long enough to establish a normal.

“She wanted us to wait until she was strong enough to see you.”

My eyes narrowed. “How long has she been awake?”

Mia swallowed. “I didn’t want to keep it from you, but Parker said—”

I wanted the numbness back. Anything was better than the volcano of rage building in my stomach warring for control with the nausea that warned this was too good to be true, which had its own fight with the tiny sliver of hope that this was real. Yeah, numb was a hell of a lot better. “How long?” I shouted.

She flinched.

“Almost three weeks,” Mrs. Bowden answered.

I turned to face the crowd, whose smiles had all disappeared. They weren’t here to see Grace, they were here to watch me see Grace. They all knew. They knew and had only gathered here to witness this moment like we were some circus show.

The door creaked behind me as Mia pushed it open.

“Three weeks,” I growled.

“It was what she wanted,” Parker whispered. “To be strong when she saw you for the first time.”