by Rae, Harloe
After what feels like an eternity, the red and white vehicle screeches to a stop beside us. Three men in blue uniforms hustle over, their arms loaded with necessities. One is carrying a massive wedge of sorts and shoves it into the mangled machine’s busted front. The other two are fussing over Grady, shining a flashlight in his eyes and checking for a pulse. A shot of who knows what gets injected into his vein. Whatever it is must be strong because his body droops with a long sigh.
I do my best to follow their rapid and efficient movements. The knot in my chest grows with each tense second. One of them suddenly has his hand on a crank, ready to force the jaws open. I choke on a garbled gasp.
“Wait! Are you sure that’s safe?”
The tallest guy snorts. “With all due respect, let us do our jobs.” His deep timbre does nothing to set my concern at ease.
I bounce my gaze between Grady and these strangers. I wish he was lucid enough to tell me what’s best. As it is, I can’t process everything while keeping my sanity intact. Not sure why I bother trying. My opinion doesn’t mean shit and they make the choice for me.
With a sickening creak of metal, the rusty teeth lift and release Grady’s arm. With the spikes gone, his wounds erupt with blood. The two gouges are deep and resemble a poisonous bite. A tremor ripples through him, but he doesn’t make a sound. The baler’s lethal clutches drip with evidence of the attack. My lunch threatens to make a reappearance. I shudder and avert my eyes.
Grady sags against the man behind him, all the fight melting from his legs. Another paramedic slides a stretcher into place. He flops down onto the board, seeming relieved for the sturdy surface beneath him. His lashes flutter shut while he groans.
They strap Grady down as he fades in and out of consciousness. A river of blood continues to trickle down his arm. I gulp down another round of bile. The waves of nausea crash into the walls of my stomach. I’ve never had a weak gut, but this is Grady. Seeing him hurt crumbles any defenses I could attempt to conjure up.
They load him into the ambulance with seasoned finesse. This team is competent and capable. It’s obvious they deal with this type of situation often. Sad, but realistic. The paramedics are talking at a rate I can’t comprehend. Every other sentence includes a sliver of positive.
Missed the bone.
Not critical.
Can save the arm.
Permanent damage unlikely.
“So, he’s going to be all right?” I hang back to avoid getting in their way.
The stocky one hops out and offers me a smile. “Yeah, absolutely. He’ll need to visit the hospital to get patched up. But that’s basic procedure. He’s very lucky. Your boyfriend will be good as new in a few days.”
My belly swoops at the title I don’t have any claim to. That doesn’t mean I’ll correct him. I tuck some hair behind my ear. “That’s really great news.”
“He’ll be out of it for awhile. Some of that is from shock and the adrenaline wearing off. It’s a very common reaction. We‘re pumping him with morphine for the pain.”
“There’s no reason to worry?” But how can I not?
He shrugs. “Not really. But the doctor will run tests to be sure.”
I give him a blank stare. How the hell long will that take? Grady will be suspended in the balance of unknown for hours. “Um, okay?”
The paramedic turns away without another word. That’s it? But he motions for me to follow. I remain frozen in place.
He quirks a brow at me over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
I blink at him while static buzzes in my brain. “Where?”
“To the hospital.” His bland tone makes me feel as though this should be obvious. “You can ride in the back with him.”
I inch forward. “O-okay.”
He nods and walks off to the driver’s side. I climb into the ambulance on trembling legs. My knees knock together as I sit on the cold metal bench. Everything is so clinical and sterile, except for the man laid out in the center. There’s a cuff around his bicep. A single tube is attached to his uninjured forearm. They slam the doors behind me and the sound is deafening. It’s just the two of us, one awake and the other zonked out. I’ve imagined us in countless positions. This was never on the list.
I reach for Grady’s hand, clutching him in a tight grip. He’s not aware of his surroundings. I doubt he can feel me sitting right beside him. I’m a mess, jittery and fidgeting from the inside out. There are probably unwritten rules about proper bedside behavior. I should be comforting him. But he keeps me grounded even during sleep.
The slightest pressure against my palm has me looking down. My heart leaps into the sky when I realize he’s holding me in return.
Happy something #73: Spending time with my brother’s best friend, also known as the love of my life.
I shut the heavy wooden door, closing off any further disruptions from the opposite side. Grady’s discharge instructions run on a loop through my mind. This needs to be a stress-free environment. He’s under strict orders to rest and stay off his feet for at least twenty-four hours. Keeping him still will be a challenge. He isn’t allowed to do anything that will cause harm to the injury site. Strenuous activities are his livelihood. He won’t stay put for long. But I plan to use the not-so-subtle art of persuasion.
Grady’s soft snores draw me deeper into the room. I perch on the edge of his mattress and watch him sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t have to stay overnight in the hospital. Once he regained consciousness, Grady immediately started bitching about being there in the first place. At that point, another dose of morphine had kicked in and he wasn’t feeling any pain. Much like now. The doctors gave him a tetanus shot, stitched up his arm, and sent us on our way with a few prescriptions to fill. Whatever horse pill he was directed to take first knocked his ass out. And here he lies.
I brush the wispy hair off his forehead. He looks so serene without the stone mask. I could almost trick myself into believing he’s at peace. But the deep purple smudges underneath his eyes appear worse. Maybe he’ll be able to sleep easy for a bit.
His forearm is heavily bandaged from wrist to elbow. The gory sight hidden below threatens to turn my stomach all over again. I choose to focus my wandering attention on more appetizing sights. The dark scruff lining his angular jaw is a glorious distraction. I bet that stubble offers a tantalizing burn against sensitive skin. The soft area between my neck and shoulder tingle from that visual tease. A plain white tee does little to disguise his sculpted pecs and torso. The bumps and ridges are meant to be traced with a slow drift of fingers.
A slight shift of his hips lowers the sheet. That glorious happy trail leads to the promise of ecstasy. I’m privy to the fact that he’s only wearing a pair of boxer briefs under there. A wicked infusion of heat enters my bloodstream. I curl my fingers into the blanket, wishing for something more solid. A thick steel rod encased in velvet would fit just right. I blink the image away. My creeper meter has officially reached new levels.
Maybe he needs some privacy.
Grady’s voice stops me before I can move off the bed. A single garbled word drips off his lips and I nearly choke. There’s no way he said what I think—
“Sutton.”
Well, that settles any doubt. Holy shit. My gaze scours his face, searching for any sign of alertness. I find none. It’s fairly obvious that he’s not lucid. But he’s saying my name. Very clearly. The sultry tune is more of a moan, in a seductive way. Those two syllables strum off his tongue in a song that leaves me stunned. That delectable purr reels me in. I’m helpless against the pull. I want him to keep whispering it, over and again, like a chant.
The bed squeaks with my slight movement. Grady’s lashes flutter open, those emerald eyes cloudy and sluggish. I curse a blue streak for waking him. His lazy stare finds me hovering at an inappropriately close distance. This alone could be considered crossing a line. A few pesky inches between our bodies isn’t suitable for friends. But maybe we’re about to be more than that.
Does Grady remember dreaming of me? The green fire that’s now illuminating his gaze suggests so. His languid perusal carves a path up my body. I can feel that trail, a hot brand covering every inch. Lust. Need. I cross my legs in an attempt to alleviate the ache. It doesn’t work. The desire begins to boil in my veins. Soon it will hijack my entire system. From the looks of it, Grady is having a similar issue. The paper-thin sheet does a horrible job concealing his reaction to my proximity.
I clear my throat. My front row viewing party had to end eventually. Might as well get this over with. “Hey, Gray.”
Grady lifts that fiery gaze to mine. Beyond the shimmer of lust, there’s a smoky veil diluting the usually vibrant green. His lids are heavy, barely at half-mast. He slaps a sloppy palm onto my thigh. His fingers dig into me with the slightest amount of pressure. The movement is disjointed, and extremely unexpected. That’s the only proof I need to determine that he’s fucked up. The evidence is damning.
“Hi, Sutt.” His voice is rough gravel, as if he’s been sleeping for days instead of hours.
“How are you feeling?”
His fuck-hot gaze remains on mine. “Damn good.”
I almost scoff. “Those pain meds must be powerful. You were stuck in a baler. There are over thirty stitches in your arm.”
Grady doesn’t spare his injured limb a glance. “It’ll heal.”
I flatten my lips. “That’s not the point.”
“No? Tell me what is.”
“You’re hurt, badly. Seeing you that way was petrifying.” My voice trembles, revealing the fear. I’ve managed to tamp down the hysteria, but that crazy bitch is simmering just below the surface. My hackles would rise every time a doctor or nurse would enter the room. Unreasonable? Absolutely. Did that stop me? Not a chance. That fierce level of protectiveness was new to me, yet held a glimmer of familiarity. I’ve always wanted to shelter Grady from impending storms. Offering him a safe space came naturally. Those glaring facts will keep my ass parked in his house until he kicks me out.
His brows slowly crease, as though the thoughts are sluggish. “But I’m all right, Sutt.”
“Because you’re lucky. It could have been deadly. You scared the shit out of me, Gray.”
“It’s just a scratch. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“But I do. I always will, Gray.”
He stares at me for a stilted moment. “Why?”
Hiding the truth would be safer. Spelling out the engravings on my heart will certainly lead to more scars. But I’ve never been smart when it comes to this man. “You mean a lot to me.”
“It’s the same for me, Sutt.” Grady begins drawing small circles around my knee, the motion seems absentminded. The gentle caress from his fingertips should feel foreign. We’ve never exchanged anything of this caliber. These soft strokes offer a deep-rooted comfort. This is exactly what I need after the frantic events of this afternoon. Can he sense that on some elemental level? That soothing balm sinks directly into my bones and spreads throughout every part of me. I’m practically panting over that simple touch. Is Grady getting any satisfaction out of this?
“I like having you in my bed. Waking up with you is something I could get used to.” His drawl is pure sugar, warm caramel dipped in chocolate.
An explosion of searing heat singes my cheeks. I fight the urge to dip my chin. “Oh?”
The sound he emits resembles a predatory rumble. I barely restrain a shiver. “You’re the first girl to be in my room.”
I flick a glance over the bare walls and minimal furnishings. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he just moved in. Or isn’t planning on sticking around long. The second gives me pause. That may very well be the case. I try not to let that spoil this moment, pasting a grin on my lips. “Should I be honored?”
“I believe the honor is all mine.” A loose smirk curls half of his mouth. That slow lift to his lips might be my undoing. The hitch in my breath rivals a foghorn. Attempting to hide my reaction is pointless. If the full-blown smile is any indication, Grady catches on quickly. He bathes the dim room in blinding happiness.
Good Lord, he’s trying to give me a spontaneous orgasm. Is that a thing? Sure feels like a possibility. But pump the brakes. Who is this sweet-talking, panty-melter?
I take a closer inspection of this swoony charmer. Not an ounce of deceit registers in his expression. There’s no stony edge blocking his emerald stare. His ironclad guard is nonexistent. Zero inhibitions block the sliver of space between us. Everything is on display for me to see. I should be the one to stop this. He’s obviously not in his normal state and under the influence of hefty narcotics.
Who the hell am I kidding? Basking in a rare smile from Grady is a gift I won’t take for granted. Appreciating from a safe distance will be the true challenge. I test my willpower by trying to evade the sneaky fingers inching up my thigh. But our skin is magnetized and moving is impossible. The golden specks in his eyes glitter at my failed attempt. Yep, he’s onto me. I’m a goner.
As if there was another option.
The itch to comb through his shaggy hair tickles my fingertips. Would he lean into my embrace if I cupped his jaw? The tiniest bit of resolve stops me from acting on those impulses. But it doesn’t stop my brain from working overtime.
I wonder if anyone else has seen this side of him. The romantic in me wants to believe I’m the first, and hopefully only. I shove the fanciful notion aside. “Well, you sure seem to be in a great mood.”
That luscious bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth. I’d love to take a bite. As if hearing my thoughts, Grady rolls toward me. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Why wouldn’t I be? I have a gorgeous woman within reach, ready to take care of my aches and pains.”
This time I really do choke on my tongue. “W-what?”
The hand he has on my leg drifts higher. “You sound shocked, Sutt.”
How could I not be? “That’s an understatement.”
“Stay with me,” Grady croons.
“For the night?”
“For always.” His gaze is smoldering. Damn, he’s sexy. And irresistible. I’m liable to straddle his lap and offer him everything. But the chains of our past hold me hostage. I can’t fall victim so easily.
“Why now, Gray?” Whatever painkillers he’s on are proving to be an effective truth serum. I might as well use it to my advantage.
His blink is slow. “I miss the peace, Sutt. My slice of goodness.”
The low tide of his voice whispers to my weakest spots. Those areas that have longed for the treasure of his affection. He’s here, in this space, threatening to spoil me with tenderness. It would be so easy to give in and believe this could be true. He’s offering the dream.
I want to rediscover hope and delve into endless possibilities. But what happens tomorrow?
Grady must feel my apprehension. Or maybe he wants to ensure my surrender. “Tell me a happy something, Sutton.”
I can’t stop the whimper that rips from my throat. It’s been years—almost a decade—since he’s asked. Tears sting my eyes as I’m transported back to a different time. Grady’s thumb catches a stray droplet. It somehow feels like he’s capturing far more.
A soft grin curls my lips. “I thought we were past that?”
His head jerks with a sharp denial. “I was lying.”
I drag in a shaky breath. “That’s not very comforting.”
“Tell me, Sutt.” He gives my leg a slight pinch.
I tip my face to the ceiling, picturing the warm sun beaming down. “Sitting under a large oak on the hottest summer days.”
Grady groans, and I imagine he’s picturing it with me. “I’m gonna build you a swing in the backyard.” That’s my breaking point. I turn away before a sob breaks free. He reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together. “Please don’t go, Sutt.”
I glance at him from over my shoulder. “What happens next, Gray?”
“We’ll figure it out. Trust me.” There’s
still an unusual shine to his gaze. Will he truly remember this conversation? Maybe it’d be better for both of us if he doesn’t. Now I’m the liar.
I stare at him silently, so much traveling between us without another word. This moment is blistering with intimacy. I fear it will pop and everything will return to our strained normal. I can’t let that happen. But Grady beats me to it.
“C’mere, beautiful. Be my girl.” He lifts his arm and offers me access to that heavenly nook.
I want to weep at the possibility. Do I dare? It’ll ruin me if he wakes up tomorrow with regrets. But I always choose to live in the moment. Following my intuition has never steered me wrong. That pesky voice has been rooting for Grady since I was seven. Why would I start refusing now?
Easy—I don’t.
When Grady beckons to me again, I don’t hesitate. Lowering myself into that divine gap fit for me is a decision I’ve always wanted to make.
Happy something #17: The comfort of knowing dreams aren’t always nightmares.
I pry my eyelids open with a muffled groan. The room is bathed in darkness, further altering my sense of clarity. Bright light sneaks through the shaded window. That’s the only clue I get. Probably doesn’t help that my brain is sluggish, the gears dipped in sticky tar.
Taking stock of my situation requires more effort than usual. There’s a bone-dry desert in my throat. Sweat dots my forehead. My shirt is drenched and plastered to me. The air is musty, but hints of strawberry and coconut linger. Damn, she smells better than a fantasy. At least there’s one advantage to this shit-storm.
I glance down and catch the massive tent propping up my blanket. Morning wood strikes again. But this is stronger than the typical erection I wake up with. The desire coursing through me is laced with feverish need. Reckless lust pools in my blood, traveling south at dizzying speed.
I reach down to palm my cock and white-hot agony lashes up my arm. Shit, that’s one way to receive a reminder. I glare at the offending wound. Any sign of injury is concealed by several layers of gauze. But I’m well aware of the damage thanks to the sizzling embers still crackling off my skin. I’d usually forego heavy-hitting medications, but this pain is quickly escalating into unbearable territory.
