Grim Holiday (Aisling Grimlock Book 6)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Don’t you dare apologize!” Griffin was ragged, frayed around the edges. I recognized the fact that I couldn’t push him too far. “You scared me, baby. You almost broke my heart.”

  I wasn’t sure I didn’t break it, perhaps that I would need to find a way to slap it back together. I couldn’t ever remember seeing Griffin so beaten down. “I’m okay … I think.”

  Instead of smiling, as I expected, Griffin’s face flushed with alarm. “What hurts? I’ll call the doctor.”

  “Griffin, everything hurts,” I replied, fixing him with the darkest look I could muster. “I’m okay. Come here.” I patted the edge of the bed and frowned when he immediately started shaking his head. “What?”

  “You’re hurt.”

  “And I don’t want to frolic in a meadow or hop on top of you and have a good time,” I offered, smirking when his lips curved just a bit. “I want to feel you next to me. I’m in the hospital, so I’m guessing Grimlock rules apply. I will be Dad’s favorite for the foreseeable future. That means you have to do what I say.”

  Griffin didn’t look convinced. “Aisling.”

  “Come on. Please.” I hoped I looked pathetic enough to force Griffin to overcome his worries and climb onto the bed and get comfortable next to me. I desperately needed to touch him, and knew he needed the same.

  Griffin didn’t immediately acquiesce, instead rubbing his chin as he bought himself time. “Aisling, how long do you think you’ve been out?”

  Was that a trick question? “Um … I’m guessing a few hours, although your face makes me wonder if it’s been a full day. Has it been a full day? Crap. I’m so behind on getting your Christmas gifts.”

  “Aisling, you opened your eyes,” Griffin said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “That’s my Christmas gift. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

  His words warmed me. “Yeah? Well I want you to get up here next to me. Come on.”

  Griffin was clearly torn. “It’s been almost three days, Aisling. You’ve been unconscious for three days. The doctor expected you to wake that first day … but you didn’t.”

  I stilled, running the words through my head. That couldn’t be right. That didn’t make sense in the least. “No, I would know that.”

  Griffin nodded, firm. “Three days. The doctor said if you didn’t wake soon … well, it doesn’t matter what he said. You’re here now, baby. You’re awake.”

  I couldn’t stop the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes, his words hitting me hard in the center of my gut.

  “Don’t cry.” I thought Griffin might break when he reached his finger over to wipe away the tear. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  He was barely on his feet, staggering a bit as he leaned. I understood now why he was so haggard. He’d spent three days watching me, keeping vigil. He’d spent three days waiting for me to wake only to have the doctor tell him that if it didn’t happen soon I might never regain consciousness. I made my decision instantly.

  “Come on.” I patted the bed again. “I need you next to me, Griffin. You need it, too. Lay down.”

  Griffin was done fighting. Whether he couldn’t fight any longer or he really did want nothing more than to touch me – perhaps a mixture of both – he carefully rolled onto the bed and settled next to me.

  “Close your eyes,” I ordered when he pressed his face into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

  “I’m afraid to sleep. If you aren’t here when I wake up … .” Griffin tripped over his words as he eased out a sob.

  “I’ll be here. I promise.”

  The words were enough. Griffin buried himself in my hair and wept. He didn’t care that my father was in the room. He didn’t care that he couldn’t catch his breath. He wept until he couldn’t muster another tear … and then he slept.

  I let him, because he needed it, and I needed him.

  “WHAT THE … ?”

  Dad woke two hours later. I had no idea how he managed to sleep in the chair given his tall frame, but he didn’t so much as move until he jerked himself awake. Griffin’s head was heavy on my shoulder, his light snores filling my ear. I pressed my finger to my lips to make sure Dad didn’t make a scene as he wakened.

  “Aisling.” He gripped my hand, his voice soft. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through?”

  I shrugged as I smiled. “If you cry I’m going to cry, and I don’t think that’s what you want,” I warned.

  Dad ran his tongue over his teeth as he stared. “When did you wake?”

  “Four episodes of The Golden Girls ago.” I pointed toward the mounted television on the wall. “Where’s Jerry? I can’t believe he left me alone in a hospital. I’ll torture him for the rest of our days about this.”

  “You are allowed only two visitors at a time,” Dad explained, his eyes contemplative as they scanned my face. “You have some color back. Are you thirsty?”

  “Griffin gave me water. I want something more fun than water, though.”

  “You’re going to drink what the doctor says you can drink,” Dad warned, adopting a no-nonsense voice that I recognized well from childhood. “I won’t let you bully your way to whatever you want if it’s not good for you.”

  I ignored the admonishment. “I want some tomato juice. I really have a craving for it.”

  “Well, that can’t possibly be unhealthy,” Dad hedged.

  “Then I want a chocolate malt,” I added. “I want a big one with whipped cream and stuff.”

  Dad pursed his lips. “That sounds less healthy.”

  “The sugar will be good for me.” I lifted Griffin’s hand from my waist and studied it. “He’s sad. Did you take care of him while I was out of it?”

  Dad didn’t appear surprised by the question. “Honey, Griffin wouldn’t let anyone take care of him. He never left your side. You need to know that.”

  “I’ve seen the stubble.”

  “Yes, well he hasn’t changed his clothes … or washed his face … or let you out of his sight,” Dad added. “I think maybe he believed that if he took a moment away – even one second – that you would slip away. He willed you to stay with him.”

  “I … think I heard him.” A lone tear slipped down my face, earning a frown from Dad as he caught it.

  “You heard him?”

  “I didn’t know what I was hearing at the time,” I admitted. “I thought it was weird that he sounded as if he was begging, but … .” I broke off, unsure how to proceed.

  “We were all begging and bargaining,” Dad offered. He didn’t have stubble – I couldn’t ever remember him having stubble – but he looked haggard. “They would let only two of us in here at a time, and he absolutely refused to leave.”

  “How did his mother take that?”

  “Don’t affix a negative motive to that woman until you have reason to do it,” Dad chided. “She was at the hospital as much as possible over the past few days. She got us food and tried to bolster our spirits. She did a lot for us.”

  That was good to hear. “Do you think it’s because she thought I was going to die and wanted to play the martyr?”

  Dad’s snort lifted my spirits. “There’s my snarky daughter.”

  “I didn’t go anywhere, Dad.” I awkwardly patted his hand. “Not really. I was here. I could hear things, although it felt as if I was floating.”

  “I bet it did.” Dad’s voice was gruff. “You hit your head hard. Your shoulders are bruised beyond belief. Do you have any idea how touch and go it was for you there for a bit?”

  “No, and I’m glad I don’t.” That was true. Something occurred to me and I struggled to lean forward and touch the back of my head without waking Griffin.

  “What are you doing?” Dad challenged, slapping my hand away. “You’re supposed to remain still.”

  “You don’t know that,” I shot back. “The doctor hasn’t been in here since I woke up.”

  “I’m going to get him.”

  “Not until I
know if I have a full head of hair you’re not,” I shot back. “Did I have brain surgery? Did they shave part of my head?”

  It took Dad a moment to register what I was saying. When he did, the smile that split his handsome face was warm and engaging. I could practically feel the relief wafting off him.

  “You technically had minor brain surgery,” Dad confirmed.

  “Oh, man! Do I have a bald spot? I’d rather die.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Griffin ordered, tightening his arm around my waist as he shifted. “You’re fine. You can’t even see the spot where they went in.”

  “Oh, I think this is going to be the worst Christmas ever,” I complained. “No photos are allowed. I can’t believe I have a bald spot.”

  “You have a very small bald spot at the base of your head,” Dad explained. “It’s hidden under the rest of your hair. You didn’t technically have brain surgery. You have a small incision where they checked for swelling in case they needed to alleviate pressure. You had no brain bleeds, which is good news.We were considering authorizing exploratory brain surgery if you didn’t wake.”

  “Oh, that’s why I must’ve come to when I did.” I flicked my eyes to Griffin’s serene face as he rested his cheek on my chest. “I would’ve never forgiven you if you let them shave my head.”

  “You would’ve gotten over it,” Griffin murmured.

  “You would’ve been alive and that’s all that matters,” Dad said, his tone gruff. I didn’t miss the fond glance he shot in Griffin’s direction. I had a feeling they’d done a bit of bonding while I was unconscious.

  “If I look freaky when I finally get a chance to see myself in a mirror – and that’s not going to happen soon thanks to my little friend – but when it does and if I look creepy, I’m taking it out on you.”

  “I can live with that.” Dad gripped my hand and heaved out a shaky sigh. “I should probably get the doctor, yes?”

  I didn’t release his hand and instead turned my attention back to the television. “Wait until the episode is over. This is a good one.”

  “I know.” Dad bobbed his head. “Jerry can recite the St. Olaf story from memory. We’ve watched it together numerous times.”

  I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. There weren’t many fathers who would sit through marathons of The Golden Girls with their daughter and her gay best friend. There were even fewer who would let the gay best friend give him a pedicure while doing it.

  “We’ll just finish the episode out,” I said, fighting off tears. “Then you can get the doctor.”

  “And then I can let everyone else in,” Dad added, his gaze trained on the television. “You have quite the fan club waiting for you to wake. Now, pay attention. This is where everything gets good.”

  A quick glance between Griffin and Dad told me that he was exactly right.

  14

  Fourteen

  Maya accompanied the doctor when he strode into my room. Her eyes shone with joy as they locked with mine, and I felt a bit foolish given her overt emotion. I never had female friends growing up – and no, that’s not an exaggeration. Jerry was pretty much my only friend. I didn’t need anything more than him and my brothers. Seeing Maya all riled up knocked me for a loop. Sure, I figured most of that emotion was for her brother, but it still made me feel odd.

  “You look much better,” Maya gushed, smiling.

  “Yeah, I feel like a million bucks.” I forced a smile as Griffin, still lying beside me, traced the contours of my fingers with his. “I think I might join a beauty pageant and try to demand world peace.”

  “I understand you’ve been awake for a little bit. Nobody alerted me.” The doctor was blessed with one of those faces you instantly trust. He wore wire-rim glasses and had white hair, giving him a distinguished look. That didn’t stop me from wanting to punch him in the face.

  “That’s on me,” I announced. “I hate doctors.”

  Instead of giving me grief, the doctor snorted. “Very nice.”

  “Aisling, this is Dr. Pemberton,” Maya said. “He’s the best neurologist we have on staff.”

  “Is that saying much?” I eyed Pemberton with cool eyes. “I don’t care if he’s McCreamy on Grey’s Anatomy. I’m ready to go home.”

  Griffin cleared his throat to get my attention. “I’m pretty sure that’s McDreamy, and you’re not going home until the doctor says it’s okay.”

  “Which he’s going to do right now.” I flashed my winningest smile, but Pemberton was clearly gay because he barely blinked.

  “Young lady, do you have any idea how close you came to dying?”

  I made a face as Griffin uncomfortably stretched next to me. “I didn’t die, though.” I opted to avoid an argument because I was pretty sure neither Griffin nor my father could take being reminded of my close call. “I’m perfectly fine now. See.” I waved my hands extravagantly, frustration taking over when I had to plop them down on the blanket out of fatigue.

  “What hurts?” Pemberton asked, shuffling closer as he retrieved a light from his pocket.

  “Other than my pride and the fact that the Kardashians are considered celebrities?”

  “I can tell you’re going to be a handful,” Pemberton muttered, shining the light in one eye and then the other. “That looks pretty good. I should’ve known you’d be a handful when I had to kick out the one with the vapors. Only a dramatic woman could inspire such loyalty from … that.”

  I stilled, furrowing my brow and groaning when the pain rocketed through my head. “The vapors?”

  Griffin pressed his lips together to keep from laughing as Dad shook his head.

  “Jerry,” Dad supplied. “He didn’t take your convalescence well. He kept screaming for second opinions and specialists.”

  “He got so worked up that security threatened to tie him down,” Griffin added. “Then he declared he was fine, merely suffering from a mild case of the vapors and would be cured faster than a prostitute can slip out of crotchless panties.”

  “Ah.” That sounded just like my best friend. “Where is he now? I want to see him.”

  “He’s been banned from the hospital,” Pemberton replied, earning a dark glare from me. “He was a detriment to your recovery, young lady.”

  “I want him.”

  “Well, he can’t return until I approve, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea given how frail you are,” Pemberton argued.

  “I want him right now.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at Dad. “Pay this guy off to get me Jerry. I’m not kidding.”

  “Aisling … .” Dad pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the ceiling.

  “Baby, how about we compromise on that?” Griffin suggested, drawing my gaze to him. “If you’re very good – and I mean very, very good – and do everything the doctor asks, eat something and rest for an extended period, I’m sure your father will buy someone off to get Jerry into the hospital tomorrow.”

  “That sounds doable,” Dad agreed.

  I narrowed my eyes even though the expression was painful. “I hurt everywhere,” I announced. “My head hurts. My back hurts. My heart hurts because I can’t see Jerry. Do you want to continue to make me suffer?”

  “Oh, geez,” Griffin muttered, blowing out a sigh.

  “You’re good,” Pemberton intoned, his lips curving. “I will take the decision away from your father if you agree to my terms. How does that sound?”

  “You haven’t told me your terms,” I shot back. “My father didn’t raise a ninny. I never agree to anything unless I read the fine print.”

  “You are delightful.” Pemberton looked annoyed, but his smile was genuine. “You’ll be on a limited diet of liquids, soups and bland grains for at least the next three days.”

  “That sounds hideous.”

  Pemberton ignored my sarcasm. “If you eat a decent amount of soup and rest I will open up your visiting hours and allow your brothers and the gentleman with the vapors to return.”

  I
scratched the side of my nose, confused. “My brothers are banned, too?”

  “You were only allowed two visitors at a time,” Dad explained. “Technically you were only allowed one visitor at a time, so I had to donate a new neonatal unit to get that upped to two. There was no way Griffin was leaving, and I wasn’t in the mood to fight him to the death.”

  “Huh. So my brothers haven’t been here at all?”

  “They have,” Dad hedged. “There were a few instances when they had to be removed. Braden put on a disguise and tried to climb the building to enter through the roof door. That resulted in Griffin having to call his boss and claim it was temporary insanity. You know how things go in this family.”

  I did indeed. “I heard them.”

  “You did?” Griffin shifted and raised his head. “What did you hear?”

  “I don’t know. I heard them talking. I heard Dad.” I spared my weary-looking father a glance. “I heard you most of all, Griffin.”

  “That’s probably because he didn’t leave your side,” Pemberton supplied. “We tried to force him out to shower at one point, but he threatened us with a lawsuit if we tried.”

  “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have held up in court.”

  “No,” Pemberton agreed. “Your father was going to fund a lawyer for him all the same and it would’ve been an expensive nuisance.”

  “Ah.” I gripped Griffin’s hands and forced a smile. “I heard you talking to me. That’s what woke me up. I … thought it was only a few hours, though. I was floating before then.”

  “Do you remember what happened?” Pemberton asked.

  “I … .” Dad caught my eye and gave me an almost imperceptible shake of the head. “Everything is a blur. I remember being with my brother Aidan, watching him walk away and then … nothing.”

  “The police believe it was a mugging,” Pemberton explained. “They’ll want to talk to you, but I can tell them you don’t remember what happened and buy you a little breathing room. It’s not uncommon for an individual to lose the minutes right before an incident.”