Trusting Danger (Danger, #2)(43)

Eleanor no longer had the strength to go anywhere. Not to doctors’ appointments, not out to the backyard she loved, not even to the bathroom.

He recalled her embarrassment when his aunt had brought a bedpan into her room. Grayson had left to give them some privacy, and it had been long minutes before he’d been able to reenter the room after they’d called him back in. He’d needed the time to compose himself.

He forced aside the painful memory as he unlocked the door to his apartment and walked inside. Although he’d assumed everyone but Alex would be asleep at this late hour, he saw Claire sitting at the kitchen table, sipping something from a mug.

“Everything okay here?” Grayson kept his voice low as Alex met him at the door.

Alex nodded. “No problems. You need me to stay longer, let you get some sleep?”

Sleep would be elusive tonight after the day Grayson had had. “No, you go on home. Thanks for covering for me.”

“Anytime.”

Rather than ask about Grayson’s mother, Alex clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard before he picked up his backpack and slipped out the front door. The quiet gesture of sympathy touched Grayson, reminding him how his team members were like brothers. That thought led him to think about Jeremy and people dying too young, which brought him full circle to his mother again.

At that, Grayson shut his thoughts down completely, not willing to go down that road right now. His jaw tense, he set down his duffel bag as Claire came out of the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Heat flooded Grayson’s body as he gazed at her. The whole time he’d been at his mother’s, Claire hadn’t been far from his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the look of vulnerability she’d had the other night, or the way it had made him feel. Even more inappropriately, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he’d enjoyed holding her, comforting her, how natural it had felt.

As she walked over, Grayson noted she was wearing her own clothes again, that tunic and leggings that clung to those curves he itched to wrap his hands around. Her cheek wasn’t as swollen as before, thank God, and the bruising was starting to fade.

“How’s your mom doing?” Claire asked.

He forced himself back to reality and raised his gaze to meet hers. “Not so good.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. That’s okay.”

While he appreciated her concern, just thinking about his mom these days rattled him, threatening to destroy his self-composure. It was an emotional place he was extremely uncomfortable with, especially with Claire. Her kindness threatened to be his undoing.

Needing to do something, he tugged some clothes from his duffel bag and headed for the washing machine. Claire was still watching as he turned around.

The light from the kitchen illuminated her face, bringing out coppery highlights in her long, wavy hair, and the force of his attraction hit him all over again. But it wasn’t only her beauty that intrigued him. Her intelligence, her backbone, her kindness . . . all of it combined to form a powerful draw that was difficult to resist.

“How long has your mother been sick?” Claire asked, keeping her voice pitched low.

Chastising himself—the attraction was pointless, after all—he focused on the question. “About six months. She doesn’t have much longer, I think.” His breathing hitched, and he closed his eyes for a second, pulling himself together. “This is the end.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. Despite all the painkillers, his mother’s discomfort had still been obvious. If only he could rid himself of the images inside his head.

“Who’s with her now?”

“My aunt. I didn’t leave her alone,” he said quickly, his tone sharp. Man, that sounded defensive. Embarrassed, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

The concern on Claire’s face deepened. Rather than snap back at him like she normally would, she gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s a stressful time.”

“It is.” He let out a sigh. Worry for his mother was exacerbating his exhaustion, and the snatches of sleep he’d been getting just weren’t cutting it.

No matter what, though, he wouldn’t let his bad mood eat at the tenuous thread of connection he and Claire now shared. Speaking of which . . . he owed her an apology.

“Claire, the way I behaved this past week—I was a complete asshole. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, it looked as if he’d shocked her. Then her lips formed an amused smile.

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

Grayson gave her a smile of his own. “Me eating my words? I can admit when I’m wrong, and I was with you. Very wrong.”

His gaze dropped to her lips and another bolt of heat hit him. Without thinking, he took a half step toward her, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms again. Then sanity prevailed.

Reel it in.

“Get some sleep,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Stepping around Claire, he walked into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, shaking his head. He’d been about to do something stupid and had stopped himself just in time.

His job was to keep Claire safe, and that was all. Once the team had determined who’d plotted to kidnap her and they’d put him behind bars, he and Claire would be parting ways.