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Tentatively, I approached the bed, each step filled to lead. There he was. Beneath the bruises and bandages, the man laying there was unmistakably my Gray. And it was only then I realized that a part of me had been secretly hoping they had made a mistake, that it wasn’t really him.
That’s when the dam burst and the tears broke free.
Hot, silent rivers of salt cascaded down my cheeks as I tried to reconcile the man I once knew with the one lying before me now. In an instant, the anger dissolved, replaced instead by an overwhelming sense of sorrow.
My Gray had always been a giant. Strong, capable, yet unbelievably tender with those he cherished. This version of him appeared so small in that hospital bed. Surrounded by a maze of endless wires and monitors, encased in that monstrous cast that was the only thing preserving his shattered leg, he seemed almost fragile. A shell of the man he once was, vulnerable to the slightest breeze that threatened to undo him.
I studied his battered features, my heart breaking a little further with every injury I cataloged. Both of his eyes were so swollen that I doubted he’d even be able to open them once he regained consciousness. A lengthy gash marred his face, stretching from his temple through his eyebrow and halfway down his cheek, meticulously stitched back together. Streaks of blood and dirt matted his light brown hair, now cropped shorter than I remembered, with one side shaved to accommodate another stitched wound on his scalp.
Underneath the injuries, the familiar contours of his face offered a strange sense of comfort. His jawline had matured and softened with time, no longer razor sharp like an athlete, and subtle lines around his eyes and mouth spoke of many hard years. Still, gazing at him felt like peering into a time capsule of the most precious era of my life.
Gray stirred, emitting a low groan.
I gently squeezed his hand to reassure him I was here. “Gray, open your eyes.”
His chest heaved in a shuddering sob, and the monitor beside the bed beeped frantically, indicating a spike in his heart rate. He began to thrash, battling against the haze of drugs clouding his senses, unable to open his eyes.
It terrified me to witness him in such a vulnerable state. He had always been the strong one between us.
“Baby, look at me. Please,” I cried, my voice cracking on the last word.
His left eye fluttered open, revealing only a sliver of his familiar ocean-blue iris. I had expected his gaze to be unfocused, hazy from the morphine, but instead his dilated pupil fixated squarely on my face.
Then, he began to cry. No, it was more than crying—it was a gut-wrenching wail, filled with anguish and despair. Hysterical cries tumbled out incoherently amidst the rapid beeping of the monitors and the thunderous drumming of my own heart, but I managed to catch a few fragmented words.
“I…wanted…to hurt you. Fix it. Never…love you…Princess.”
Oh god.
I didn’t want to read into his words.
I refused to read into his words.
My anxious brain laughed and wished me good luck with that.
A different nurse hurried into the room, quickly checking Gray;s vital signs.
“He seems distressed. Did anything happen that would have upset him?” she asked.
“He opened his eyes and looked at me. Then he started crying and panicking. It’s been quite a while since we last saw each other,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay, well I’m going to give him another dose of morphine in case it’s his pain that’s elevating his BP. It will hopefully make him fall back asleep,” she explained as she worked, her movements deft as she injected something into Gray’s IV.
“Still, perhaps it might be easier for him to wake up to a familiar face. Is there anyone else here that can come in and sit with him, sweetie?”
I nodded weakly.
I practically bolted out of the room, feeling as though my own survival depended on it. I needed to locate Remy to ask him to keep Gray company. Then, I’d find Willy and ask him to help me sort through what the fuck I was feeling.
But first, I needed to find a bathroom somewhere so that I could throw up the entire contents of my stomach.
31. “Jet Black Heart”
Colton
My ears buzzed as I slumped against the cool tiles of a disabled bathroom. I hadn’t even paid attention to my surroundings, just bolted inside the second I saw the toilet sign. Still feeling clammy, I tried my best to ignore the repulsive aftertaste of vomit lingering in my mouth.
“Babe, are you okay?” A cool, reassuring palm pressed against my forehead, and I grasped onto Willy’s hand, relishing in how nice it felt against my feverish skin.
