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CHAPTER FOUR

Lucy

I’m sorry,” the receptionist insisted for the second time, “but as I said, visitation is for family only.”

Frustrated tears pricked Lucy’s eyes as she stood in front of the check-in counter at the hospital. She had tried to explain that to Charles, she was family, but they still wouldn’t let her see him.

Lucy took a deep breath, then wrinkled her nose, overwhelmed by the smell of antiseptic and the artificial fragrance of cleaners heavy in the air.

“But I visited him before! The day of his surgery and the day after,” Lucy said, voice shaking. “You can check the records.”

If she were Charles’s emergency contact, none of this would be happening. But she wasn’t Charles’s emergency contact; Grayson was.

The receptionist sighed; she was a different woman than the one Lucy had seen on her previous visits. Lucy didn’t understand why this receptionist was giving her a hard time.

Lucy glanced over at Grayson, who seemed impatient but steely. She wished she hadn’t been so mean to him when they’d left. He’d be terrible to her now. She wouldn’t be surprised if he left her behind, a wicked grin across his face.

She turned and looked up at him, waiting for him to exact his revenge.

“She’s with me,” he told the receptionist in that practical tone of his. Surprise lit through her, and the anxious buzzing went quiet. “I’m the patient’s grandson.”

The receptionist nodded, taking Grayson’s information down without giving Lucy another glance. Lucy felt cold. No matter how many years she had diligently spent by Charles’s side, she wasn’t his blood. On paper, she was no one to Charles.

“He’s in room 313,” the receptionist finally said, handing Grayson two visitors’ stickers. It was different from the one Charles had been in previously, and Lucy chose to see that as a good sign. Still, she’d feel better once she finally saw him.

“Thank you,” he replied, sticking a tag onto his chest. He handed the other one to Lucy, who took it quickly and made haste down the hall, looking for the elevator. They took it up to the third floor, and she searched for the correct room.

Finally, they reached the white door, 313 in black across it. Grayson stopped walking a few steps from the door, but Lucy barreled right in.

The room was stark and sterile, everything drab and colorless, with strong white lighting that made Lucy squint. Monitors were set up along one side, and they beeped rhythmically in the otherwise quiet room, the wires attached to the bed at its center.

“Charles!” she cried, immediately rushing to his side. Hearing her voice, Charles roused from his slumber. He turned to face her, and she reached for his hand. His skin was pale but warm as she clasped his bony fingers in hers.

He looked weak and strange in the hospital gown, so unlike the jolly figure she was used to in his funky sweaters or colorful polo shirts in the summer. But there was that tuft of white hair on his head, those clunky glasses resting on his nose; he must have dozed off without removing them, as he often did. She focused on his face, at the slow smile turning his lips.

“Lucy-Lu,” he replied, voice weak but still his own. Relief flooded through her as if she were finally glimpsing the sky after days underground. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“I missed you,” she said.

Charles’s blue eyes shone, and she realized with a start that he and Grayson shared the same eyes. She turned back to see that Grayson had entered, though he hung to the side awkwardly.

Her gaze went to his face, to the eyes behind his thin-rimmed glasses, and it was unmistakable: the same stormy blue, but where Charles’s were always warm, Grayson’s were cold, like the ocean in June versus the icy waves of January.

Still holding on to Charles’s hand, she frowned at Grayson, who stood by the door as if ready for a quick escape.

Widening her eyes, Lucy gestured to him with her free hand from behind her back so Charles wouldn’t see. Grayson gave her a confused glance, brows furrowed. She gave him an incredulous look, shocked at his lack of manners.

At last, the hardened line of her mouth must have clicked, because Grayson finally stepped forward, though his movements were slow.

Clearing his throat, he stood beside her. “Charles,” he said, voice stiff. He shuffled his feet, looking around the room. Then, he held out his hand. Oh for god’s sake, Lucy realized with horror. He’s shaking hands.

Lucy released Charles’s hand so he could shake Grayson’s. The old man did so with a look of amusement. She felt a little smile playing at her lips to see the sparkle in Charles’s eyes again and, if she was being honest, at Grayson’s obvious discomfort.

Grayson stepped away again, straightening his glasses. “Right. I’ll just go check in with the doctors, then.”

He left, and she shook her head at his retreating back. She didn’t understand why he was here at all. He claimed it was for Charles, but she didn’t believe it, not with the way he had just behaved.

So then why? When all he had done so far was disrupt her store?