“Don’t! Don’t move. I — you’re the nurse! What do I do? You have a head wound. It’s not too bad, I don’t think, but it’s bleeding like a stuck pig and I don’t know—”
“I’m fine.” I groaned and tried to stand.
“No way. You say right there. Even I know that you’re not supposed to move.” She gently pushed me back down and I was too weak and disorientated to fight her. A knock sounded at the door and Bekah glanced up at the sound, then back at me, narrowing her eyes to small slits.
“You, do not move.”
“Fine,” I mumbled, closing my eyes.
“No!” Bekah shouted, slapping the side of my face.
“What was that for?” I shouted, squinting at her.
“Don’t fall asleep. Stay with me. Okay?” The door was now being pounded on and Bekah rose quickly and opened it. I heard her speak with a few unfamiliar men and then saw one of them hover over me.
They quickly discussed my injuries, and I knew immediately it wasn’t bad. I would have a miserable headache for a few days but nothing serious.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I said in the most rational, clear tone I could muster.
“Miss, you likely have a concussion, I recommend at least an x-ray to determine—”
“I’m an intern nurse. I know the protocol, but this is nothing that needs more than some aspirin and a warm bed,” I mumbled, embarrassment beginning to surface over my situation.
They argued with me, trying to get me to change my mind but didn’t succeed. By the time they left I was sitting up and drinking tea that Bekah had brought me. My head hurt fiercely, but the bleeding had stopped quickly and now all I wanted to do was go to sleep.
“Bekah, can you hand me the remote? I’m exhausted and I can’t sleep just yet. I need to stay awake for a few hours just to make sure.”
“Make sure what?” Bekah asked dubiously.
“That I don’t need to go to the hospital.” I gave her an unamused glare.
“Okay… but no TV, let’s play a game or something.” She was jumpy, avoiding eye contact and while I was watching her, she picked up the TV remote and put it on a shelf far away.
“What’s up with you?” I asked carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“You… hiding the remote. And you hate games.”
“I do not.”
“You do too.” I narrowed my eyes at her.
Bekah bit her lower lip then walked toward me. Sitting down beside me, her expression was wary and sympathetic. Gently she placed her hand on my arm, leaning in.
“Sophia, what do you… what’s the last thing you remember?”
“Falling?” I teased.
She smiled but it was forced. “No, really.”
“Hmm… You woke me up,” I stated, remembering her shaking me and then my stumbling out of bed and into the hall where the TV was blaring— “No,” I whispered, my throat closing up.
“Breathe, Sophia, breathe.” Bekah moved her hands in a circular motion and I tried to follow her instruction. “He’s alive, but in critical condition.” She spoke the words directly into my face, making sure I heard her.
“He’s alive?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“What happened?” I asked breathlessly.
She glanced down to her lap, chewing her lower lip. With a heavy sigh she made eye contact. “Overdose.”
It was my fault. Everything was my fault. As soon as she said the word I knew that I had been the catalyst for it. Granted it was because Greyson believed something that wasn’t true, but either way… I was to blame. Tears welled in my eyes and I leaned back. My headache screamed as the pressure built from my tears.
“He’ll be okay.” Bekah soothed me as she ran her hand down my hair, then hugged me.
“You don’t understand,” I whispered. Reluctantly, as if I had to coax every word from my soul, I told her everything. About Dr. Solomon and coffee, the picture, the fiasco at work and then finally how Greyson was convinced I had betrayed him. Bekah listened carefully, her wide eyes never leaving mine.
“And I’m the one to blame, Bekah. It’s my fault.”
“No. It’s not.” Bekah shook her head then patted my hand.
“It is!”
“No. Don’t. Greyson made his own choice. He could have asked you, rather than assume. He could have chosen to fight for you rather than believe the lie. Greyson could have chosen a number of other things rather than drugs… but he didn’t. Not to mention, why would he have you followed to begin with? Greyson made his own choices. You didn’t make them for him.”
“But—”
“No. No buts. But what we do need to do is pray. Because we don’t want his rotten choices to end him. Rather, Sophia, we want this to be what brings him life.”
****
Bekah and I prayed for Greyson. My heart broke each time I said his name. After a few hours I knew I was okay to get some sleep. I asked Bekah to wake me up every couple of hours until morning, when I’d need to call in sick to work. Being the amazing friend she was, she slept on my floor with her Hello Kitty alarm clock set for every two hours.
True to her word, she woke me up periodically and when it was time, I called in to the Center and let them know I was out sick. The morning went by slowly as I camped out on the couch watching CNN for any reports on Greyson’s condition. At ten-thirty my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with Greyson’s name. I almost dropped the phone in trying to answer it as quickly as possible.
“Greyson?” I asked quickly.
“I’m sorry, miss, but this is Gregory. I’m not sure if you remember me, but—”
“Yes, yes I remember you.”
“That’s grand, miss, but I’m afraid I have some news. I’m sure you’ve seen it on the television by now, but Mr. Bentley is in the hospital.”
“I know.” Tears fell in streams down my face and I wiped them away quickly.
“I’m going against protocol calling you, miss, but I need to know something.”
“Anything.”
“Did you speak with Greyson last night?”
“Yes, well, yesterday afternoon,” I whispered and closed my eyes, reliving the entire conversation.
“Do you know what could have perhaps caused him to relapse?”
“Yes. He… he thought I was betraying him, seeing someone else. It’s not true, but he wouldn’t listen—”
“Ah, I see.” Gregory’s tone was clipped.
“Why, Gregory?” I asked in a hesitant whisper. “Why would he do that? He knows… He’s been down that road, Gregory. And he didn’t even listen to me. It was like his mind was made up—”
“It was, Miss Holton. I’m afraid that Greyson is much like his father in that particular aspect. Once he is convinced of something, he doesn’t change his mind easily. That is both a blessing and curse.”
“I see.”
“Indeed. Could I ask a favor, Miss Holton?”
“Anything.”
“In a few days, I trust that Greyson will be well enough to recuperate at a different facility… if you get my meaning.”
“Yes.”
“Can you possibly oversee, make sure that the transition is smooth? I’ll make sure all is well on my end—”
“I’m on it,” I said with confidence.
“Thank you, Miss Holton. And for what it’s worth, I don’t doubt your integrity. Give Greyson time and he’ll come around.”
“Thank you. I hope you’re right.”
“So do I, Miss Holton. I’ll text you with any changes.”
“Thank you,” I murmured into the phone.
“Of course.” He ended the phone call and I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the couch.
Greyson was alive, he was healing, and he was coming to me. All I had to do was convince him that the things he’d thought were wrong.
Around noon, someone knocked on the door and I got up to answer it. Bekah hadn’t been able to
get out of work, so she was gone till that evening but was calling me every hour or so just to check in. I started calling her Mother Hen. Either way, the door knock was a welcome interruption to my stalking of CNN.
I peeked through the hole and was surprised to see Dr. Solomon.
“Hi.” I waved self-consciously as I opened the door.
“What the hell?” Dr. Solomon’s eyes widened before the doctor personality took over and his gaze narrowed into a study of my injury.
“I’m fine. I smacked my head and the table won.” I shrugged. The movement caused the faint throbbing to increase momentarily. I glanced at the clock gauging when I’d need to take more aspirin.
“Wicked table,” he replied as he reached out and tenderly touched the side of my head around my wound. “But you did get a nice shiner out of the deal.” He gave me a weak grin, but his eyes were concerned.
“Hooray for me.” I gave him a thumbs-up sign and moved aside, inviting him in.
“Seriously, what were you doing, though? If you’re that clumsy…” He trailed off.
I smiled but glanced down, not sure of how to answer. But I that moment, I decided I didn’t care anymore. “Greyson Bentley is in the hospital because of an overdose,” The words started to draw tears.
“I heard…” Dr. Solomon watched me for a moment then glanced away.
“He’s going to be alright but…”
“I didn’t see that update.” Dr. Solomon glanced to the TV.
“Gregory, Greyson’s personal assistant, called me just a few minutes ago,” I answered, waiting for the pieces to click into place for Dr. Solomon.
“Why—” His gaze went from confused to understanding in a few seconds time before he glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I thought I warned you, Sophia.” He glanced up at me, his expression hurt and confused.
“Everyone did. Including myself.” I shrugged.
“I — I guess I did have my suspicions,” he admitted after a moment.
“I figured. But you need to know that I, uh, made the line clear. He was still my patient. I wasn’t—”
“Sleeping with him?” Dr. Solomon asked pointedly.
“No.”
“I see.” He rubbed is jaw and glanced away.
“I — I don’t know what to say, Dr. Solomon.” I shrugged, at a loss for words and trying to keep the pounding in my head at bay.
“I understand, Sophia. You can’t force what’s not there.”
“You can’t,” I agreed, my heart hurting for him.
“But you also can’t just give your heart freely. Greyson is trouble. I’m not saying that out of jealously. Sophia… he OD’d, knowing full well—”
“He made a bad choice. He’s beyond broken, Dr. Solomon. He’s hurting worse than you know right now.” I shook my head.
“You know what triggered it.” He narrowed his eyes in concentration.
“Yeah.” I exhaled heavily.
“If you can’t tell me, that’s okay I’m just—”
“He thought I was… er… going behind his back.”
“Behind his back? Ahhh…” Understanding lit up his expression.
“Yeah.”
“Not very trusting is he…” Dr. Solomon shook his head.
“He had pictures that made him think otherwise even though it wasn’t true.”
“Pictures? Wait…” He paused. “You don’t think…”
“Yeah, coffee the other day.” I shrugged.
“So I’m officially the ‘other guy’. Not so great.” He shook his head and paced the room. “What did he say when you told him that you were drowning in your tea not flirting?”
“That I was a liar.”
“That felt good.”
“Awesome.”
“And he promptly went to his only escape, drugs.”
“Yep.” I sat on the couch and laid my head back, closing my eyes.
“The truth will win out, Sophia…but what you need to do is figure out whether that’s enough.”
I opened my eyes as I felt the couch sink beneath Dr. Solomon’s weight. “What do you mean?”
“If Greyson is that ready to believe the lie… then when is he ever going to trust the truth? And are you willing to risk that? I’m not saying that he can’t change. He can, and I hope he will… but…” He trailed off, shrugging.
“I see. I guess it’s always easier to believe lies rather than the truth, huh?”
“Not always, but often. Yes.”
“Can I ask for your help… even though I really don’t have the right to?” I leaned forward.
“Anytime.”
“Gregory… he said that in a few days, depending on Greyson’s progress, they’ll be wanting to take him to a different facility…Willow and Oak. Can you help me get things streamlined…?”
“I can, but on only one condition.” Dr. Solomon turned to face me fully. “You won’t make any decisions on Greyson. Both for or against him. Also, I want you to know that I will be requesting another nurse take over his care and will assign you somewhere else.”
“But—”
“If you want my help… those are the conditions. Sophia… he has to grow without you if he’s going to grow at all.”
“Alright,” I agreed, my heart breaking at the thought at being so close to him, yet so far away.
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, heal up. You, as beautiful as you are, look terrible.” Dr. Solomon’s expression was brave, but I could see the strain in his features, and I knew the price he was paying to assist me. My respect for him grew and I wished I felt more for him than just friendship, but I didn’t.
“Thank you,” I told him with heartfelt gratitude.
“Anything, anytime, Sophia.” He hesitated then pulled me into a hug.
“I’ll see you in a few days.” He left and I locked the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
The next few weeks went by quickly. I recovered and returned to work but never saw Greyson, though I knew he was there. Dr. Solomon kept me updated on his progress but never in great detail, just enough to keep my nerves from eating me alive. As the days passed, I started to pray more. It was my lifeline when everything else was belly up and confusing. In prayer, I found peace, and slowly I was able to let go of all the baggage, guilt, and fear that had been slowly suffocating me over the past weeks of Greyson’s relapse. I discovered I wasn’t as strong as I thought, but that God’s strength carried me, and I was much better off being carried.
Dr. Solomon waved me down as I was on my way to another patient.
“Yes?” I asked.
“After your shift, if you have time, you have a patient who has been asking about you.” He gave me a small smile and walked away.
My mind spun with hope that it was Greyson. I carried on with the rest of the afternoon and clocked out as soon as I was able. After I left the locker room I found Dr. Solomon leaning against the wall, waiting.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” I answered but wiped my hands on my jeans from the nervous sweat.
“Alright… hear the guy out, but remember what I said. Don’t make any decisions. Time, Sophia. You both need time.” He speared me with a solid gaze.
“I understand.”
“Follow me.” We passed the room I had assumed to be Greyson’s and went into a different wing. The rooms here were smaller, less luxurious and more streamlined. My brow furrowed in confusion, but I followed Dr. Solomon until we reached the end of the hall.
“I’ll be right here. He’s expecting you, go ahead and go in.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly as I reached for the door.
Dr. Solomon nodded and I took a deep breath, pushing the door open.
The room faced west, letting in the light from the setting sun and bathing the room in an orange glow. I heard my own heart beat as I glanced about for Greyson. A moment later he came through the door that led to the bedroom and my heart stopped
. I drank in his presence, studying his form. As soon as he saw me he paused, his gray eyes searching mine with a hawk-like clarity. I couldn’t read his expression and uncertainty crept in my heart, choking out the joy I had felt only a moment ago.
Then he said my name.
“Sophia.” He caressed my name with his voice, the sound like a physical touch from the softest warm silk.
“Hi, Greyson.” My words were calm but my heart was racing and my breath hitched.
“I… I didn’t hear you come in.”
Everything was so stilted and awkward, and I didn’t know how to proceed. “If I’m interrupting—” I gestured to the door.
“No!” Greyson shouted and took a few quick steps forward, desperation evident in his tone and clear in his eyes.
I placed my hands at my sides and glanced at my shoes. “How are you doing?” I asked after a moment.
“Better… hey, do you want to come in… you know. All the way?” Greyson asked, a smile tipping the corner of his lip in a way that was familiar and warming.
I glanced at the door, realizing how close I was still standing. Poor guy probably thought I was about to bolt through it. I laughed at myself and took a few steps forward.
“You weren’t chasing me away, don’t worry.” I shot him a wry glance.
“Yeah, that’s not what your body language was saying.” He raised his eyebrows and like that, the tension was broken.
“Greyson… seriously. I’ve been out of my mind trying not to worry. How are you?” I wanted to reach out and touch him but Dr. Solomon’s warning echoed in my mind, stopping my movement before it started.
“I’m alive. For that I’m pretty thankful. I wasn’t ready to go yet.” He shrugged. “The rehab. Yeah, that’s been the easy part. Getting shi— stuff together. Not so fun. “He rubbed his face and I studied him unabashedly. I caught his careful speech and wondered.
He had lost some weight. His jaw line was more defined, but his lips were exactly as I remembered, full and perfectly accented by the shadow of a beard that he was sporting. The cut of his t-shirt accented his lean but muscular build and my eyes strayed to his shoulders before I glanced up, using all my self-control to not be distracted.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“All my stuff? It means all the crap I’ve been carrying around, keeping with me ‘til I didn’t even realize I was carrying it anymore. It was part of me, and getting rid of it, not easily done.” He shook his head then ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it and making my own hands itch to touch it.
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