All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Forty-Four

        An hour later, they released me from the hospital. So many doctors and nurses gave me their condolences, but they meant nothing. None of them understood what Everlie had meant to Grayson and me. They knew I was hurting, but they had no idea what it felt like. To lose one of the only brightnesses in your life. Part of me wondered if this was what it was like from the other end. I'd delivered so much bad news, consoled so many families at the hospital back at home. I'd kept it all separate from my life, to keep my sanity. But now I was one of the shattered souls in the cots, hollow and lost. But I numbly thanked them, leaning into Grayson's shoulder the entire time. He somehow was fighting through everything, paying attention to what the doctor had to say and the instructions on the pills I was given. It took forever, but finally he got me outside and into the car.

        "Do you want to stop and get anything to eat?" he asked quietly.

        I shook my head. Such questions seemed so trivial and unimportant now.

        "Do you want me to make you something when we get home?" he tried. I hated that he was trying, even though he meant well.

        "I'm not hungry," I said blankly.

        "Okay. Let me know if you get hungry," he said, thankfully dropping it. I wanted him to stop talking. Never again did I want to hear his voice. Grayson wasn't the problem: it was me. I wanted to swim away to an island so remote no one could find me, and even if they did, I'd be hiding deep within a volcano, where it would be just me. All alone. Where feelings didn't exist and I didn't have to think. There would be no one to ask if I was hungry. No one to hand me pills that I knew would only heal the physical rips inside me–not the ones that were leaving scars on my heart. It wasn't Grayson. I just wanted solitude.

        He backed off when we got home, not even getting my door for me when he parked. Not holding my hand for support when we stepped in the elevator. I must've been sending out a 'Stay away!' scent or something, and I was glad. I just shivered alone, wearing nothing but my pajama shorts and a t-shirt. I had flip-flops on, ones so new that Grayson must've bought them for me while I was knocked out.

        The penthouse was cold and quiet when he unlocked the front door. The only sign of any incident was that I'd knocked over the mug of tea when I'd been in such pain. I didn't even remember making the mess. Grayson silently went to the hall cupboard and found a set of new sheets. I knew I should help him, but I remained frozen, standing in the hallway blankly.

        "Do you still want to sleep with me tonight?" he asked once the sheets were done.

        I really didn't want to. I wanted to stare at the ceiling and cry until I'd run out of tears. But I knew Grayson couldn't be alone right now. Maybe he didn't show it, but I knew him well enough to think that it was a bad idea. So I slowly nodded, my arms still folded over my chest and my hair hanging loosely over my shoulders.

        Gently, he took my arm and led me over to the bed. I almost cried out at his touch, but I held my tongue. No longer was it magical. Now it was so cold that it burned. It seared through my skin and shocked my nerves into numbness. He let me sit and then disappeared. I could only stare at the carpet as I waited, counting the little zigzags in the weave. There were thousands of them. Enough to keep me occupied for years, just like I wanted.

        Grayson slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind him. I thought he would just lay down, maybe wish me goodnight, but I was wrong. I flinched as I felt my hair tug. "What are you doing?" My voice didn't sound like my own.

        "Brushing your hair," he replied, not ceasing. I fell silent again, letting him gently brush out the matted tangles. My hair would need brushing anyways, so I might as well let him do it now.