You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  Gray: Only if it doesn’t involve birds that talk. Those freak me the hell out. Not a fan of owls either.

  Half the tension she held left with her laughter.

  Meredith: No talking birds or owls. I promise. I’m in a bind, and I have no one to watch Oscar. Can he come with me today?

  She shut her eyes and pressed send. Gray wasn’t Mr. Simmons. Not by a long way. But she’d lost her last job because she didn’t have childcare. She couldn’t afford for that to happen again.

  Gray: Of course. But if it’s a problem, you don’t have to come today. I’ll be fine.

  That wasn’t what she wanted at all. She had a car full of food. And she didn’t want to spend the day at the McCormicks’. But more than that, Meredith knew that she wanted to see Gray.

  Meredith: I have groceries in the car for you. Including ingredients for a pie. I’m coming.

  Gray: Pie? Come. Now. Bring Oscar.

  She laughed again, and her worries fled.

  Meredith: Be there in 2 minutes.

  Meredith scanned the living room. She’d need to bring a few toys to keep Oscar occupied. She grabbed his Bilibo bucket and filled it with his Tobble blocks and his fire engine. She picked up Oscar and read Gray’s next text once she was back in the car.

  Gray: I’m upstairs writing. I’ll head down when I take a break.

  Good. Obviously, he was feeling well. If that held, he’d have an appetite after he finished writing, and she’d have a meal ready for him.

  The drive took only minutes. “Oscar, do you want to play with some big dogs?” Through the rearview mirror, she watched her son’s eyes bug with excitement.

  “What bid dogs?”

  Meredith pulled into Gray’s drive and parked. “Their names are Vulcan and Juno, and they’re really big.”

  As she unbuckled him from the car seat, Oscar looked up at her. “Are dey mean?”

  She shook her head. “No, they’re sweet. And they love to play with their tennis ball.”

  “Play wiff balls?” His brown eyes could not have grown any larger.

  Meredith laughed. “Yes. You can throw the ball for them.”

  Oscar clapped when she set him down on the driveway. “Let me get the bags, and we’ll walk to the door together.”

  She loaded her arms with groceries and left Oscar’s toys in the car. The dogs would keep him occupied for a little while.

  “Dogs!” Oscar squealed when Juno and Vulcan met them at the door. They were taller than he was, but he showed no fear. Both animals stepped closer, sniffing him as he giggled. The dogs whipped their tails with excitement, seeming to mimic Oscar’s joy.

  “Hey, guys,” Meredith said, stepping into the foyer with her awkward load and closing the door with her hip.

  “Meredith? That you?”

  She heard Gray call from upstairs. A smile broke across her face at the sound. “Yep. We’re here.”

  Before she could herd Oscar and the dogs to the kitchen, she heard footfalls on the stairs. In a moment he was in front of her, taking the bags.

  “Let me get those.”

  His eyes were the first things she noticed. The way his eyes smiled at her had the power to stop her breath. She felt her color rise. Crushing on the boss was a bad idea, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “You must be Oscar,” Gray said, clutching the grocery bags to his chest and sinking into a squat to be eye to eye with her son. “Do you like my dogs?”

  Oscar, all shyness in front of this big stranger, simply nodded.

  Gray was dressed in a charcoal Henley and dark-washed jeans. Crouched down by her son, he filled out both so well, Meredith had to fight the urge to reach for his bicep and squeeze it. Instead, she tried talking.

  “We’re going to throw the ball for them,” she managed. And since her voice was steady enough, she let herself meet his eyes. “You look well this morning.” What she really wanted to tell him was “You look amazing. Every damn day.”

  Gray nodded and stood. “I feel okay right now. The writing’s going well.”

  Meredith grabbed Oscar by the hand and followed Gray into the kitchen.

  “Then please don’t let us disturb you,” she said, meaning it. “We’ll play with the dogs for a bit, and then I’ll start cooking.”

  He set the grocery bags on the counter and turned to her, a look of concern in his light blue eyes. “Even though I really like your cooking, I can’t help but feel bad about you spending your Sunday cooking for me.”

  A thrill of fear ran through her. Please don’t send me home.

  “I don’t feel bad about it. You’re paying me very well.” His concerned look made room for amusement. “Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d still rather be here than at home.”

  Meredith clamped her mouth shut. Why did she have to come out and say those things to him? Something in his face changed, and he watched her for a long moment. Then he took a step back toward the stairs.

  “Stay as long as you like.” The soft depth of his voice went right to the hinge behind her knees. He gave her a nod and then disappeared up the stairs.

  Meredith sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Boss… Work… she reminded herself before leading Oscar and the dogs outside.

  Two hours later, Oscar sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by his toys. Tobble blocks lay everywhere since he insisted on stacking them before ramming the tower with his fire engine. Meredith had managed to silence the toy’s siren, but the lights atop the rig still flashed as the miniature fire truck crashed into the wobbly blocks.

  “Uh-oh!” Oscar said every time the tower came tumbling down and blocks spun across the floor.

  Meredith could only hope the noise couldn’t be heard upstairs. She’d just taken the apple pie out of the oven, and it was a few minutes after noon. Perfect timing. If she served Gray a plate of spaghetti, the pie would have time to cool but would still be warm after he had lunch. Still, she didn’t want to break his concentration. Meredith opted to send him a text instead of shouting upstairs.

  Meredith: Pie’s ready. Want some lunch?

  “Uh-oh!” The flashing fire engine made another assault, and blocks went flying. Vulcan and Juno had quickly learned to stay out of the path of the destructive truck, seeking cover on the other side of the island, right at Meredith’s feet.

  Gray: Be right down.

  Meredith read the text and washed her hands. “Oscar, please pick up your blocks. Mr. Gray is coming downstairs.”

  Instead of picking up the mess, Oscar came around the island and stood by her leg, the prospect of having to face a stranger too much for him. Meredith sighed and dried her hands.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, grabbing his Bilibo bucket and the first of his blocks. Oscar and the dogs followed. “Can you turn off your fire engine and put it by the door?”

  “Blocks first, Mama,” Oscar said, dropping a Tobble into the bucket. Meredith heard Gray on the stairs. He rounded the banister and stepped into the kitchen.

  “That smells d—” He stopped midsentence, and Meredith looked up to see him covering his eyes. “The flashing… turn it off.”

  “What?” And then she gasped. “Oh shit!” Meredith darted across the kitchen and flipped off the fire engine lights.

  “Oh, God, Gray! I’m so s—” But she turned to see his shoulders jerk and his knees buckle. She shot forward, reaching for his elbow as he tipped toward her. Meredith thought she could steady him and lower him gently to the floor.

  She was wrong.

  He didn’t simply fall over. Gray’s body tackled her. His shoulder caught her cheek, snapping her head back. The weight of him knocked Meredith off her feet. When her back hit the floor, the wind left her in a rush.

  Gray convulsed on top of her.

  Oscar screamed.

  And Meredith could not breathe.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT WAS LIKE a dream. The kind when running and shouting were near impossible, and survival depended on flight
and warning. The kind of dream where everything was shrouded in fog, and sounds floated through a torrent in the ear, time pouring slow like molasses.

  He was gone the moment the second red flash pierced his pupil. And then he was falling. All two hundred pounds of him, falling with the force of double, onto this fair and fragile girl half his size.

  He couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t brace her. But he felt it all. The way her body gave no resistance, her head and torso sailing back as though she chose it. The way his shoulder came down onto her solar plexus when he landed, her diaphragm spasming under his weight. The way spittle leaked from his mouth onto her neck. He had one clear, fully formed thought as his muscles jerked without mercy.

  If I piss my pants, I’ll kill myself.

  It seemed like ages before she breathed beneath him, a long wheeze, shuddering and desperate. This sound rang clear to him as his head beat against her face. Her son, screaming in terror, came near them, and Gray felt rather than saw Meredith raise a hand to stop him. Two figures closed in, and he knew Vulcan and Juno smelled fear and sensed danger. Their low growls punctuated the rush in his ears.

  She spoke to them, the language without meaning, but the growls turned to whimpers. Gray felt her shift, struggle, and pull her body up to sitting. She needed to get away from him and go to her child. He would have helped her if he could.

  But she positioned herself under him so his head beat against her thigh. Her thigh instead of the floor. He felt Meredith turn him to lie on his side. His unblinking eyes saw the curve of her knee, the tapering of her boot. She whispered something in his ear, the sound full of remorse, and her hand brushed the hair away from his forehead. Her fingers were cool against his skin.

  A moment later, the noise in his ears drained away, and his body stilled. Time sped back to normal. Gray closed his eyes and would have wished for death if the sound of Meredith’s distress hadn’t stopped him.

  “I’m so sorry, Gray,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Nuh…” The feeble word was unintelligible, even to him. It wasn’t her fault. He was two days without his medicine. He’d played with fire and been burned, but he hadn’t counted on harming Meredith and her son.

  I’m such an idiot.

  “Are you hurt?” She ran a hand over his head, down his neck, and across his shoulders. He moved his arm — which had to weigh fifty pounds — up to his mouth and wiped at his lips and chin. He didn’t have to see it to know he’d drooled on her leggings, but he could already tell his pants at least were dry.

  Thank Christ.

  “Should I call 911?”

  “No.” The word came out more clearly this time. He tried to speak again. “I’m okay… Not your fault.”

  He tilted his head up to look at her. The kitchen lights were supernovas, and he blinked against them, but between each blink he saw her worry. Eyes brimmed with tears, her face blanched and spotted, she looked down at him with a concern so great it hurt his eyes. He watched her frown, and she looked away.

  “Oscar! Baby, come here,” she gasped.

  With his head still in her lap and his body now leaden with post-seizure fatigue, Gray couldn’t move or sit, but he looked back to see the terrified toddler crying and huddled in the corner of the kitchen.

  Shit.

  The little boy didn’t move. The kid would probably be scarred for life, and it was all his fault.

  “It’s okay, Oscar,” Meredith said, wiping her eyes and trying to control her voice. “It’s safe.”

  “Mama cwying,” the boy wailed. “Mama felled down.”

  “I’m alright, baby,” she said with a hiccup. “It was an accident. Come here.”

  Oscar took a step toward them and eyed Gray with distrust. “Why he in you lap, Mama?”

  “Because he’s sick, baby. That’s why we fell. It was an accident.” She was trying to sound sure, but her voice still shook. Yet it was enough. The child closed the distance between them, and Meredith caught him in her right arm, hugging him to her.

  With her left hand, she still stroked Gray’s shoulder, and he wondered if this was unconscious, if the act of comforting her child meant that both her hands must be employed in the job of soothing. Or did she meant to soothe him too? Whether she meant it or not, it made him feel less like an ass. But just a little.

  Juno let out a great whine and sunk to her belly at Gray’s knees. She crawled toward him and sniffed his hand. Gray lifted his fingers to stroke her muzzle and reassure her. The dogs had seen this before, and they always stayed close, but he’d never had a seizure in front of anyone besides Bax. Now that the moment was over, he knew the animals’ loyalty to him could have put Meredith and Oscar at risk.

  “When I fell…” Gray began, rolling slowly onto his back so he could look up at her. It took all of his strength to make that one move. “…what did you say to the dogs to make them calm down?”

  Her lips were pressed to Oscar’s head, her face suffused with relief. She clung to her child like his life depended on it. Gray knew if either of them had been hurt in the episode — by him or the dogs — he never would have forgiven himself.

  “I just told them to stay and that it was alright,” she said, looking down at him. She ran her hand over his brow again, combing his hair back, the sensation making him forget his question for a moment. “They seemed to understand. I think they were just worried I’d hurt you. Once they saw I wouldn’t, they just cried and paced.”

  “Dogs cwying,” Oscar echoed.

  “Yes. The dogs cried when their daddy fell, just like you cried when Mama fell,” Meredith told him.

  Oscar looked down at Gray with an amused twinkle in his eye. “You dey daddy?”

  Despite his horror at the damage he could have caused and his humiliation at the scene he had caused, Gray couldn’t stifle his chuckle at the child’s question. His laughter made his head bounce again in Meredith’s lap — this time more gently — and he felt the warm, supple flesh as if for the first time. Her fingers still stroked through his hair, and his head rested in her lap.

  In her lap.

  If he could forget the last five minutes, he’d have to count this one moment as the best he’d had in months. Because lying in her lap with her fingers tracing against his scalp felt all kinds of incredible.

  She always made him feel better.

  He pulled his mind from this truth and answered Oscar’s question. “Yeah, I guess I am their daddy,” he said, closing his eyes.

  Gray needed to sleep. Seizures ruined him for hours, stealing all of his strength and leaving him almost drugged with fatigue. The last two times he’d seized when he was alone, he’d slept on the floor before he made himself move. The time before that, Bax had hoisted him up and into his bed. He couldn’t imagine Meredith doing that — and he didn’t want her to — but he couldn’t think of a solution just now. Sleep threatened to drag him under.

  “Oscar, could you hand Mama her purse?” Meredith whispered above him.

  “I want to pat him, too,” Oscar whispered back.

  “Wait, Osca—” But then Gray felt a small hand thump twice against his forehead. “Oscar, stop. That’s too rough.”

  Gray kept his eyes closed, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, smoothing over the spot with her own hand.

  “S’okay.”

  “Oscar, go get Mama’s purse.”

  He heard the child scamper away and return a moment later. “I’m texting Oscar’s father to come get him,” she said. “And then I’m going to call your brother.”

  Gray’s eyes shot open. “You will not.”

  “Yes, I will.” She glared down at him with an authority and defiance that spoke volumes about her.

  He’d knocked her to the ground with his full weight, but she could still stand up to him. Gray shut his eyes. This was a battle he couldn’t win, and he was too tired to fight anyway. The headache that always followed a seizure — the wors
t breed of those monsters — was emerging now, and resting was all he could handle.

  “Asshole,” she hissed.

  He opened one eye. “Me?” She was right, and he wasn’t about to argue.

  Meredith’s focus ripped from her phone to him, a look of alarm claiming her face. “Oh! No. Not you. Jamie. My…” She paused, searching for the word she wanted and coming up empty.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked, opening the other eye.

  She hesitated. “No, but he was.”

  They’d talked almost every day — about all kinds of things — but the subject of Oscar’s father had been one they’d both skirted. Gray should have let it go there, but now that he’d met her son, he wanted to know more. “So, he’s your ex-boyfriend?”

  Meredith sighed. “Can I call him my ex-boyfriend if I live in his house and sleep in his bed?”

  She slept in his bed.

  Gray could not remember feeling jealousy — true jealousy — in his adult life, but lying on the kitchen floor with his head in her lap, Gray Blakewood had to admit jealousy was exactly the emotion at work in this moment. And as a wordsmith, someone who worshipped the subtleties of language, he appreciated the nuances between envy and jealousy.

  He was not envious of this Jamie person. He did not wish to trade places with him. Meredith thought of her ex-boyfriend as an asshole. Gray did not want her to sleep in his bed and think him an asshole.

  But he was jealous.

  And he knew one could only feel jealousy when he had a claim on a person he feared losing. Gray had no such claim. He was no lover afraid to lose his beloved. He had no right to feel jealous.

  And yet he did.

  Meredith mistook his silence for judgment. “I know it’s terrible… to live with him when I can’t stand him,” she said, sounding disgusted with herself. “But I’m not playing him. He knows how I feel.”

  “I don’t think it’s terrible,” he said with conviction. “You have a child together.”