You First

by Stephanie Fournet

  “Okay,” he said gently. “I’m parking the car.”

  “I’m packing my bags.” In truth, she really only had a duffle bag and her book sack. Two trips to the closet filled those.

  “You sound exhausted,” Gray said a moment later.

  Meredith gathered up her hairbrush and makeup from the dresser and tossed them into the duffle bag. “Yeah, but I can’t think about that right now.”

  “How far away is Brooke?”

  “Not far. She should be here any minute.” Once her two bags were full, Meredith started stacking the rest of her clothes on the foot of the bed. She didn’t have much, but she couldn’t afford to leave anything behind. Starting over was going to be hard enough.

  Before she finished, she heard a light tapping on the bedroom door. “Meredith?” Brooke called softly from behind it.

  As soon as Meredith opened the door, Brooke crushed her in a hug.

  “What the hell is going on? Leona is a weeping mess at the kitchen table, and Big Jim is yelling at Jamie in the front yard.”

  “What did she say?” Gray asked, the edge back in his voice.

  “I’ll tell you everything later,” she told them both, untangling herself from Brooke’s embrace. “Right now, I need to get out of here.”

  “Sure thing,” Brooke said.

  “Yes, get out of there,” Gray said. “If you want to come here, just come. No matter how late it is.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes, you will,” she promised.

  Meredith hung up, looked at Brooke, and read a thousand questions in her eyes.

  She asked one of her own. “What am I going to do?”

  Brooke reached out and took both of her hands. “You’re going to do what you should have done a long time ago. Leave.”

  “And go where?”

  “Let’s go back to my house. I think I found us a place, but they’re painting it, and we won’t be able to move for two weeks.”

  Just a few days after Gray’s surgery. A chill passed over her. Would he still be with her? Meredith looked at her phone. It was now after midnight. Thursday morning. That left only eleven days. And if eleven days was all she had…

  “I want to go to Gray’s.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  GRAY STOOD IN the doorway of his bedroom and watched Meredith in the dim dawn light. She slept curled around her young son. Oscar had barely opened his eyes when they’d arrived near one in the morning. At first, Meredith had put up a fight when he offered up his own bed, but she’d finally listened to reason when she remembered that his mother was staying in the guestroom, and it would be easier for everyone if Gray slept on the couch in the living room.

  The sounds of their arrival had drawn his mother downstairs, and he’d glimpsed her wide-eyed surprise at his full kitchen. Through her eyes, the scene must have seemed pretty surreal: Meredith, her toddler, her best friend Brooke, and Brooke’s boyfriend Rajan. Judging by the look on her face, this midnight invasion of guests was the last thing Dahlia Blakewood had ever expected to see at his house, but a moment after she took it all in, his mom assumed her usual sense of grace and offered to make hot chocolate for everyone.

  After Meredith had settled Oscar in his bed, and after her friends left and his mother went back upstairs, she’d told him about the attack.

  “I want blood,” he’d said. As a crime writer, he’d dreamt up dozens of ways to commit murder, but he’d never hungered to do it himself until then.

  “I want to be held,” she’d countered. And so he’d held her. It calmed him as much as it soothed her. She told him, too, about how she’d been living. And she’d cried with shame when she told him how much she’d allowed Jamie to take from her.

  And Gray had promised all the things he could promise. That Meredith never had to see that raping dick-fiend ever again; he’d have André file for a restraining order to make it official. That she and Oscar could stay with him as long as she wanted, but if she wanted a place of her own, she could come and go as she liked. Always.

  He didn’t tell her that she’d be looked after, no matter what happened to him, but knowing this was true — that he’d already set this plan in motion — gave him a sense of relief like he’d never known. She would never have to rely on Jamie or his family again.

  Still, Gray had to take half an Oxy to even think about sleeping after he’d kissed her goodnight and stretched out on his couch. His head hurt, of course, and his eyes were still a mess, but his real distress came from the thought of Meredith in the hands of that fucker. It was faint, but she bore a red mark just above her lip, and the flesh there was a little swollen. He saw, too, the bruising on her arm, and he had to remind himself that a blow to the head might kill him, and then what good would he be to her? So it was best to leave Jamie McCormick alone for a little longer.

  Even with the painkiller, he was up before Meredith, and no wonder. She probably needed to sleep for days. He hated the thought of waking her, but she’d insisted on going to class. Gray and his mother would watch Oscar, and Dahlia Blakewood was already up, dressed, and preparing a massive breakfast at the prospect.

  So it was time to wake Meredith. Gray crossed the room and sat beside her. He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing away the dark locks that fell across her face.

  At his touch, Meredith awoke with a start. Her eyes were wide with panic until she focused on him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, backing up and giving her space. After what she’d been through, he should have known better than to touch her while she slept.

  “No,” she whispered, reaching for his hand and clasping it. “It’s all right. For a moment, I thought I was… there.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You’re here. And you’re safe. And my mother is making a comically large breakfast,” he whispered back, making her smile.

  “Okay.” She nodded, but then she glanced at Oscar sleeping on the other side of her. “I’d better wake him up alone. He’ll probably be really confused.”

  “Got it,” Gray said, rising to his feet.

  She held his hand as he stood, and then she made his day by bringing it to her lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re here. That’s what I want.”

  The look in her eyes made him want a lot more, but he slipped out of the room. In the kitchen, his mother fussed over buttering biscuits while bacon sizzled on the stove.

  “That smells amazing, Mom.” He came around the island and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

  She smiled and held his gaze for a moment. “She must mean a great deal to you,” she said quietly, her hazel eyes bright with interest and her slim brow arching. “Taking her and a baby in like this? Into your quiet, well-ordered home?”

  He heard a teasing note in her voice, but she wasn’t simply teasing. Dahlia Blakewood was fishing.

  “I’m not taking them in,” Gray said, snatching a buttered biscuit from the pile on the plate. “Meredith is getting her own place in a couple of weeks. Until then, I want her here.”

  He didn’t add that he would have liked her to stay indefinitely.

  “Really?” She eyed him, half amused. The other half, he could see, was concerned, but she tried to hide this. “You used to get so upset about the noise your brother and sister made while you were trying to write.”

  He bit off half the biscuit, chewed, and swallowed. “This is different.”

  It was such an understatement he almost couldn’t say it with a straight face.

  “I’m beginning to see that,” she murmured, smirking. Then she lowered her eyes to the frying pan. “Still, you aren’t worried it’s a little fast?”

  Gray stilled. “Clearly, you are.”

  Never looking at him, she pressed her lips together and tilted her head in a shrug. “I just wonder if this would be taking place if you were well. You�
�re so used to having everything just so… having control.” She met his eyes finally. “What if helping your new friend is a way of feeling in control of something even in the midst of all the chaos of being sick.”

  “If I were well…” Gray began, setting his jaw. “…the only difference would be that I would’ve gone out last night and beaten the life out of that piece of shit who dared to hurt her.”

  His mother blinked in surprise. “I see.” She nodded her head, contemplating, a smile playing at her mouth. “I think I should get to know this girl.”

  He let go of his tension. “Yeah, you should.”

  Just then, Meredith and Oscar entered the kitchen. She was dressed for school, but Oscar still wore his pajamas. At the sight of him, Gray watched his mother beam.

  “Hello, there,” she cooed.

  Oscar, sleepy-eyed and shy, clung to his mother, giving Gray and Dahlia suspicious stares under his furrowed brow.

  Meredith smiled. “Just give him a minute.”

  Oscar’s eyes swept the kitchen before he picked up his head and looked from left to right. “Where da bid dogs?”

  Gray chuckled. “They’re outside. I’ll go get them.”

  He walked away just as his mother offered Meredith a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast, and Gray was glad to hear it. Dahlia could worry about him if she wanted to, but she had to treat Meredith like royalty. Anything less, and he’d set her straight.

  When he returned with the dogs, both women were laughing. He eyed Meredith first.

  “Oscar wants to know if Vulcan and Juno will get biscuits and bacon, too.”

  The toddler still held his arms plastered around Meredith’s neck, but a shy smile was beginning to peek out from his lips, and as soon as the dogs approached, he squirmed to be set down.

  “Bid dogs!”

  Vulcan and Juno descended on him with excited licks, sniffing his neck, ears, and diaper until Oscar dissolved in a fit of giggles.

  “Oscar, you’re going to stay with the big dogs while I go to school,” Meredith said, filling her voice with excitement. She didn’t need to. Oscar was squealing, but then his giggles gave way to a racking cough, and Meredith grabbed a napkin and scrambled to the floor to cover his mouth.

  “He’s not contagious anymore. I swear,” Meredith said, glancing nervously between Gray and his mother.

  Gray crouched down beside them. “Honey, it’s fine.” He watched the endearment touch the expressions of both women. Meredith blushed, and Dahlia bit down own her smile.

  Oscar looked past Meredith to Gray. “My sick, too,” he said.

  “I’m sick, too,” Meredith corrected, wiping his face.

  “I’m sick, too,” Oscar parroted. Then he cocked his head at Gray. “You better?”

  Gray could only smile. “I hope I’ll be better soon.”

  “Better soon,” Oscar said, nodding.

  Gray’s mother covered her mouth with a slender hand, her eyes softening at the child. Meredith pulled Oscar into a hug and kissed his cheek. “You are so sweet, my baby.”

  “He certainly is,” Dahlia said. “Want some breakfast, Oscar? I’ve got your booster seat right here.”

  While Meredith strapped him into his chair, Gray’s mother set down his plate, refilled her coffee, and sat across from him, smiling.

  “Oscar, do you like jelly or syrup on your biscuits?” she asked, holding up both.

  His eyes got wide. “Syruf!”

  Dahlia tittered. “Can I pour it for you?”

  He nodded, grinning.

  Gray took the opportunity to grab Meredith by the hand and pull her to the living room.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

  “Are you?”

  Gray shook his head. “I asked you first.”

  She took a deep breath and let it go. “I’m okay,” she said, shrugging. “I’m a little worried about Oscar… I slept like crap… I have an anatomy test tomorrow… But I’m here with you and Oscar, so that makes this a pretty great morning.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “Now you.”

  “Okay… um… I also slept like crap… I’m still ready to commit murder… I have a brain tumor… but I can see a little better today, and you and Oscar are here in my home, so I’m not complaining.”

  Her face turned hopeful. “You can see better?”

  Of course, she’d fixate on that rather than his desire to kill Jamie. “Yeah, it’s a little better.” The sparkly strip over his sight was now just a shimmering smudge off to the right. It was no less annoying, but the rest of his vision made more sense to him. He hadn’t told her the improvement was probably due to a course of steroids Dr. Cates had put him on, but she didn’t need to worry about that now.

  “That’s a relief,” she said, nodding.

  “Yeah…” If she were less worried about him, maybe she’d take his advice on what to do next. “Have you given any more thought to pressing charges? I know that—”

  She raised her free hand to stop him. “I’ve decided I’m not going to.”

  Gray resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Meredith, why not?”

  “Gray…” She gripped his hand and tugged him down so they were eye to eye. “…he’s Oscar’s father. I don’t want Oscar to grow up with a dad who’s a registered sex offender.”

  His eyes went wide. “But he is a sex offender.”

  “Please. I thought about this half the night,” she said, her eyes imploring him. “We’re getting a restraining order and letting your attorney document everything. That’s going to scare the shit out of Leona—”

  “Leona’s not the one I’m worried about.”

  “Me either. I’m worried about Oscar.”

  He was up against her signature stubbornness, and Gray knew that if it involved Oscar, he stood no chance of winning. Better to live to fight another day.

  “We’ll see what André says.”

  She opened her mouth to argue. “Gray—”

  “Mama!” Oscar yelled from the kitchen. “Come sit!”

  Gray cracked a smile. Saved. “I believe you’re wanted in the kitchen.”

  “Just so you know, I’m not budging on this,” she said, turning back toward the hall. “Coming, Oscar!”

  He planted his feet and held tight to her hand. She spun back to face him when she couldn’t step any further.

  “What is it? Like you said, I’m wanted in the kitchen.”

  Gray stepped closer. “Yeah, but you’re wanted in here, too.” He held her gaze and took the last step that separated them. If she wasn’t ready for this, he wouldn’t push it. He’d only held her as she’d asked the night before and then kissed her chastely on the forehead before she’d gone to bed.

  But if they couldn’t see eye to eye on bringing charges against Jamie, he didn’t want her to walk away without a reminder of how he felt.

  Meredith looked up at him, and the smile just dawning on her lips gave him permission to tuck their joined hands behind her back. When she didn’t tense or look away, Gray pulled her against him.

  He brought his left hand to her cheek. “Good morning,” he whispered, tracing his fingers over her perfect skin.

  Her slow blink spurred his pulse. “Good morning,” she echoed softly.

  He felt her right hand land on his waist. When she tugged him forward, he didn’t hesitate. Gray brought his lips to hers and kissed her gently, lightly. She answered with small kisses of her own. He heard the pull of his breath, tucked his hand behind her head, and pressed his kiss deeper.

  And Meredith drew back with a gasp.

  Her hand shot up to cover her mouth. “Sorry. A little sore.”

  Fuck.

  It took every ounce of Gray’s will to hold back from flying out the door in a rage and coming back with Jamie McCormick’s head on a pike.

  Instead, he gritted his teeth and tucked Meredith into a hug. She was in his arms, he reminded himself, and she’d fought — literally — with tooth and nail to keep th
at asshole from doing his worst. And Gray thanked God she was strong enough this morning to argue with him and at ease enough, at least, to want to kiss him.

  Time would heal her physical wounds, and, God willing, he’d take care of the rest.

  “YOU KNOW HOW this sounds, right?” André sat in Gray’s living room, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

  Gray crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend. “No. Tell me. How does this sound?”

  They’d finished signing off and witnessing the changes to Gray’s will, and André’s staffers had just left when Gray brought up Meredith’s attack and his wish for her to prosecute.

  Dré leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “Don’t be getting mad at me, Gray, but you just met this girl. She’s nineteen years old—”

  “She’ll be twenty next month,” Gray interjected.

  “She’s nineteen years old,” Dré repeated, letting his eyebrows crowd his forehead. “She’s got a kid. She’s got a violent ex-boyfriend-baby-daddy who allegedly roughs her up, and when the shit goes south, she comes to you. I think—”

  “It’s not like that.” Gray gave a solitary jerk of his head. He held his composure by a fraying thread. “I had to beg her to come here. And fuck allegedly. She has bruises.”

  “Now, hold on,” Dré cautioned, holding up his palms. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. But it never crossed your mind she could be playin’ you?”

  Gray would have laughed if he hadn’t been so pissed. “Playing me? She couldn’t play anyone. Meredith doesn’t have a deceptive bone in her body,” he bit out. “No, that thought never crossed my mind because she’s never asked me for anything. She refuses the help I offer, and the first time I made a move, she turned me down—”

  “Well, shit, now I have heard everything,” Dré said, his words swimming in sarcasm.

  Gray rubbed his head. He couldn’t tell André that Meredith’s innocence and her selflessness were the first things he loved about her. Half-a-dozen times last night and this morning, he’d wanted to say the words. Tell her he loved her like nothing else. Gray had been crazy about her since they first met, but the madness he felt the night before when he sensed — accurately — that she was in danger made the truth unmistakable. He was in love with Meredith Ryan, and giving her everything he had — his protection, his possessions, his passion — was all he knew how to do.