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He whispers in my ear with a low and husky voice, “I have condoms in my bedroom.”
Before I can respond, my phone rings. It is the ringtone for my grandmother.
“I need to get that.”
Reluctantly, I break away from Ezra's embrace and reach for my phone.
"Hello?" I answer, my voice breathless.
"Quinn," she says urgently, her voice weak and trembling. "I need you to come to the hospital right away."
My heart clenches with worry, and I quickly relay the message to Ezra. He doesn't hesitate, helping me to my feet and insisting on driving me.
As we rush to the hospital, our steamy encounter fades into the background, replaced by concern for my grandmother. At that moment, I know that no matter how strong our attraction may be, life has a way of reminding us of what truly matters. And for now, it's family that comes first.
The sterile smell of the hospital hits me as soon as we walk through the doors, and I can feel my stomach churn with anxiety. As Ezra and I make our way to my grandmother's room, I try to prepare myself for what I'm about to face, but I know deep down that nothing can truly prepare me for this.
As we enter the room, I see her lying there, so frail and weak. The sight of her like this is a physical blow, and I struggle to keep my composure. The medical team bustles around her, checking monitors and adjusting IVs, their faces masks of professional concern.
I take a tentative step toward her bed, my heart pounding in my chest. "Grandma?" I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.
Her eyes flutter open, and she offers me a weak smile. "Quinn, my dear," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I force them back, unwilling to let Ezra see just how much this is affecting me. I reach for my grandmother's hand, her skin cool and papery beneath my fingers. I try to focus on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, hoping it will somehow anchor me in the present moment.
The reality of grief and the hope for recovery are like two opposing forces within me, each battling for dominance. I want to believe that she'll pull through, that she'll be the same strong, vibrant woman who raised me after my parents' death. But the sight of her now, so fragile and vulnerable, makes it hard to hold on to that hope.
I try to find the right words to say, but they seem to be stuck somewhere deep inside me, locked away by doubt and fear. Instead, I simply squeeze her hand, hoping that the gesture conveys all the love and support I have for her.
As we stand by my grandmother's bedside, I feel a gentle squeeze on my hand. Ezra's reassuring presence reminds me that I'm not alone in this difficult moment.
"Grandma," I say softly, "remember him? This is Ezra, my... friend and employer."
Her eyes shift to Ezra, and though her smile is weak, it is genuine. "It's nice to see you again, Ezra. Thank you for taking care of my Quinn."
Ezra returns her smile warmly. "It's my pleasure, ma'am. Quinn is a very special person."
The sincerity in his voice touches me deeply, and I blink back the tears threatening to spill over. We spend the next few hours talking, reminiscing, and sharing stories with my grandmother. Ezra listens attentively, occasionally chiming in with a kind word or a heartfelt sentiment.
As the evening wears on, Ezra glances at me, concern etched on his face. "Quinn," he says gently, "I'm going to head home and let you have some privacy with your grandmother. I'll be back in the morning to pick you up, okay?"
I nod, grateful for his understanding and support. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."
He gives my hand one last reassuring squeeze before leaving the room, his soft footsteps echo down the hall as he goes.
With Ezra's kindness, I feel stronger and more capable of facing whatever challenges lie ahead. And as I sit by my grandmother's side, our hands intertwined, I know that together, we can weather this storm.
Overdoing It
Ezra
It'sbeenafewdays since I took Quinn to the hospital. The memory of her standing by her grandmother's bedside, her face etched with worry and determination, is still fresh in my mind. I admire her strength, even when faced with such adversity.
My brother Dane’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You ready, Ezra?" he asks. His enthusiasm for our gym session is evident in his tone.
"Yeah, let's do this," I reply, forcing a smile. I know that exercise is important, and I can't deny that I've been neglecting my fitness routine lately. But with everything going on at NexTech and my growing concern for Quinn, it's been difficult to find the motivation to hit the gym.
We make our way inside, and the familiar scent of sweat and rubber greets me. The gym is one of Dane’s. He owns a successful chain of fitness centers and wellness centers. He has a lucrative athletic apparel deal with a Fortune 500 company and a popular fitness app. Dane’s earned his billionaire status, and I’m extremely proud of my younger brother.
