“Ryan,” he said. “Her name is Meredith Ryan.”
Gray nodded, grateful. He kept his eyes on the entrance of the ICU. If he’d lost a whole month of discovering Meredith Ryan, he wanted it back. Every minute.
On the heels of this thought, Meredith and Baxter filled the doorway. His brother’s back was to him, and Gray had a clear view of Meredith’s face. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tearstained, but the sight of her looking up at his brother made his stomach clench. It wasn’t jealousy. It was—
Meredith’s eyes locked on his, and he begged her silently.
Please come here.
She broke away from Baxter and crossed the room to him.
Gray’s father glanced between the two of them and ducked his head. “I’ll give you a minute,” he murmured and slipped away.
She stopped by the foot of his bed, and Gray hated the look of pain in her eyes. With her arms crossed over herself, she looked like she was trying to shield her body from harm. A pen and a marker board would not be enough. The power of speech had never seemed so precious, so essential.
“I’m sorry,”he wrote. The words, two dimensional and impermanent, couldn’t convey everything he felt. Blessed. Cursed. Mystified. Desperate.
Meredith shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Her voice was stretched thin, as though it might break at any moment.
Gray wanted to touch her. He needed to touch her. So he reached out his left hand, imploring her to come closer.
She bit her lips and took two steps before stopping again just out of his reach. He wanted her to sit beside him, but the guardrail made it impossible.
Though he couldn’t remember it, Gray knew he must have held her hand every chance he’d had. Without deliberating, he folded forward, the pressure in his head doubling, and he claimed her right hand. She didn’t resist, but he felt what it cost her. And he read it in her eyes. Betrayal. She’d trusted him only yesterday, and now…
Slowly, he leaned back, tugging her with him and making her take the two steps to move closer. They watched each other in silence. Who was she?
He looked at the hand in his, turned it over and mapped her palm with his thumb. Her hand was small and fine-boned and lovely. It felt wonderful. And completely unfamiliar.
“You don’t remember meat all?”she asked, seeming to read his mind.
He looked up at her tortured expression, and it killed him to tell the truth. Gray reached for the marker.“No, but I want to.”Then he underlined thewantthree times. If she spent time with him and told him all about how they had grown to know each other, maybe he would remember. And even if he never did, he’d get to learn about her, which, to Gray’s convalescing brain, seemed pretty great. He didn’t even mind how long that might take. Of course, they couldn’t start just now. Exhaustion saturated him. He needed to sleep again, and soon.
Meredith studied him, frowning. “Maybe it’s better this way.”
“Waah?” She’d shocked him out of his fatigue and silence, and he clamped his mouth shut as soon as the undignified sound left his mouth. He scratched across the board.“Why???”
Her eyes let him all the way in. He saw defeat and disappointment and something like resignation. “Because I’m not right for you,” she said, shaking her head. “My life is a disaster, and you’re better off without me.”
Apart from her name and what she looked like, Gray knew nothing about her, but he couldn’t believe she was right. It didn’t feel like she was right. Gray felt certain that if she walked away in this moment, he would not be better off.
He wiped away his question and added a new one:“Would you have said that yesterday?”
She read it and immediately shook her head. “That’s not— I mean— Everything’s changed.”
He felt something then in the pull of her resistance. Not necessarily familiar, but more like… a current. Something he should follow. He wrote as quickly as he could.“Because I have brain damage?”
Her mouth fell open in shock, and Gray sensed his advantage. He let himself smile. In a few minutes he’d learned — or relearned — that Meredith Ryan was selfless. Maybe to a fault. And that made her a challenge. How hard had he had to work the first time?
“No,” she said, frowning and pulling her hand free. “Of course not. Because you have a clean slate. You don’t need me.”
Gray wanted so badly to be able to argue. Even if he could have spoken, he couldn’t explain it, but he had a strong suspicion he did need her. And letting her slip away would be a huge mistake.
“And you’ve given me so much.” She spoke again before he could wipe the marker board clean, and the gratitude in her eyes stilled him.
What had happened between them? What had he given her? What had she needed? Gray found himself proud he’d given it — whatever it was.
“It feels wrong to… stay when you don’t know who I am.”
