Chapter Twenty
Wren practically ran up the stairs to Grant’s apartment. She’d been a wreck since he called to tell her he’d taken a knock to the head and he was okay, but he couldn’t be alone overnight. His options were sleeping on Gavin’s couch or Wren spending the night at his place.
“No offense to Cait’s training, but if I have to have a private nurse, I’m choosing you over them every time,” he’d said, not that he’d had to twist her arm.
There were worse phone calls to get, she knew, but this was the first time she’d ever gotten the call he’d been hurt on the job. And hearing his voice had helped, but she also knew Grant would do his best to downplay being injured so she wouldn’t worry. She wasn’t going to relax until she saw him with her own eyes.
She let herself in and called for him as she dropped her overnight bag inside the door. “Grant?”
“I’m right here on the couch. Nurse Gavin told me I wasn’t allowed to get up until you got here.”
The relief when she saw him was so intense, her knees felt weak. He looked okay. The pillows from his bed propped him up, and the throw blanket was over his legs. But other than the glass of water and package of crackers within reach on the coffee table, he looked as if he could have been hanging out, watching a movie.
“What happened?” She sat on the edge of the couch and rested her hand on his chest because she didn’t know if he’d been hurt anywhere else, but she needed to touch him.
“Like I said, I took a knock to the head. It happens, but I’m okay.” He covered her hand with his. “Maybe a mild concussion, if anything, but because it knocked me out, the doc wanted somebody to keep an eye on me overnight.”
“It scared me when you called, so I might not even blink.”
He chuckled, but only for a second because it obviously pained him. “I said keep an eye on me, not stare at me.”
“Crackers and water? Are you sick?”
“I had a pretty intense headache and the stuff they gave me for it upset my stomach a little. Not a big deal.”
It was a very big deal. “What aren’t you telling me?”
What looked like guilt flashed across his face. “What do you mean?”
“If you were vomiting after a head injury, that’s really bad. Everybody knows that.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Head injury is overstating it a bit, and I wasn’t vomiting. I swear. The painkillers made me a little nauseated and the crackers helped.”
“So how is this supposed to work? Do I wake you up every hour and make you tell me your middle name and what year it is?”
The quick bark of laugher made him scowl. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh and, no, absolutely do not wake me up every hour to ask my middle name. You don’t have to wake me up every hour at all.”
“Are you lying?” It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he ignored that paragraph on his discharge papers so he could sleep in peace. “I can text Cait and ask her what I should be doing for you.”
“They just want somebody with me in case I need help. If I stand up and get dizzy or something. Mostly your job is to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie with me.”
“Tough work. Maybe a nice, quiet romantic drama?”
“I didn’t get hit that hard.”
“What did you get hit with, anyway?” He hadn’t actually said on the phone.
He looked at her for so long without speaking, she was afraid maybe he’d hit his head harder than he’d admitted. Then he gave her a tight, very un-Grant-like smile. “I don’t actually know. Just one of those things, I guess.”
Considering how dangerous his job was, she should be thankful he wasn’t hurt worse, but it still turned her stomach to imagine how much worse that phone call could have been. “Sometimes I hate your job.”
“Then we should stop talking about it and watch a movie. Preferably one with a car chase or a building imploding or something.”
Once they’d settled on an action movie and she was stretched out next to him on the couch, Wren started to relax. Not too much, since she was precariously close to falling on the floor, but her mind relaxed and her anxiety eased.
About halfway through the movie, Grant nodded off. The arm he’d draped along her hip got heavy and he was snoring softly into her hair. At one point, he muttered something, but she couldn’t make it out. He didn’t normally talk in his sleep at all, so either something was really bothering him or it was the painkillers.
She was almost asleep herself when Ben’s voice echoed through her mind. Wren?
