Chrysalis, p.3
Chrysalis, page 3
“Gray what?” she snapped.
Just…Gray. Every bit of irritation I’d been storing up for him fled as I drank in the welcome sight in my doorway. “Where the hell have you been?” I demanded, ignoring the detective entirely.
She glanced over at the door as Gray hovered. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come any closer. “His name is Christian Cross,” he said. His voice was just as deep as I remembered.
I was so busy soaking him in that I almost missed his words. My name. Christian. I logged that in my brain’s exceptionally open hard drive. Right now, I had around 7.9 TB out of 8 TB free. Christian Cross, I repeated silently.
Detective Myers strode over to the door, and they began a hushed conversation. Unlike Nurse Brenda, Gray knew how to whisper, which was unfortunate. At least their quiet pow-wow gave me a chance to look him over without being noticed.
He looked different, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. His ash-blond hair was relatively long, and he’d pulled it back in his customary knot at the back of his head. It wasn’t an easy task containing all that wavy hair, and he had a habit of sticking things like pens in it, so his bun was always slightly messy. He was pale as ever, a direct result of a long winter and too much working inside. He’d always kept his beard, slightly darker than the hair on his head, short and trimmed, and that was the same, too.
Even the dark smudges under his eyes were familiar. His job was never-ending, and he carried a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d want it any other way. Gray had always gravitated toward responsibility like it was programmed into his genetic code. I think that originated from him taking care of his sisters when his mom left.
I frowned. No, that wasn’t it at all.
Let’s go, Swiss Cheese, I snapped at my brain. His dad was the one who’d picked up and left. I had a vague picture of his mother in my mind. She was on the plumper side with the same ash-blond hair as Gray and a sweet smile. She always called us “boys,” and sometimes we had…brunch? I rubbed my head. I had no idea which memories were real and what I was concocting on the spot because it sounded nice.
Whatever Gray told the detective made her send me a pitying look. She clapped him on the shoulder and headed out of the room, her sensible pumps clicking on the floor as she marched down the hallway.
High-ho the dairy-o, the cheese stands alone.
Gray’s gaze was unreadable as he lingered in the doorway. If his body language was anything to go by, he was uncomfortable. He probably didn’t want to get close for fear of hurting me. Or maybe the amnesia was throwing him off. Whatever it was, I’d waited too damn long to have his arms around me again.
“Come here,” I said gruffly. “You’re much too far away.”
Hesitantly, he pushed off the door frame and came across the room. Even scrubs couldn’t disguise his physique—he was tall, broad-shouldered, and lean-hipped. Even though he was far from out of shape, his middle was a little soft, the result of too many meals out of a vending machine eaten on the go. An observer couldn’t see all that in his slightly loose scrubs, but I knew that body. Knew it as well as my own.
I wasn’t sure what was different, but at the core, one thing remained the same—everything about him spoke to me. Every single thing. It was disturbing and comforting all at the same time.
He stopped a few feet from my bed. “You’re looking good, Chris.”
Liar. “And yet I haven’t developed super-long arms.” I beckoned him even closer. “For God’s sakes, Gray, I don’t have anything contagious.”
He smiled faintly as he came closer still, resting his hands on the bed rail, right next to my cuffed one. His eyes were rounded and turned down at the corners, which always gave him the look of a perpetually sad dog. Those whiskey-colored eyes were usually filled with genuine warmth and caring… everything that made him such a great doctor and an amazing partner.
And then it hit me. That’s what was different. His eyes. They were usually so open and honest and warm. They weren’t like that now. Instead, they were wary and slightly hard. I gazed at him silently, wondering what I’d done to make him look at me that way. I knew without even asking that he wouldn’t tell me. Dr. Michaels had already bent my ear about remembering things in my own time and how damaging it could be for someone else to try and fill in my blanks.
I sat up slowly, wincing as my body protested. I didn’t care. I had a feeling a kiss from Gray was worth the trouble. But when I stretched up to meet him, his eyes widened, and he stepped back. He cleared his throat as he reached out with a gentle hand and eased me back down. He could teach Nurse Brenda a thing or two about knowing your own damned strength.
“You need your rest,” he said, rubbing my shoulder in soothing circles.
Why don’t you want to kiss me? I couldn’t push the words past my suddenly raw throat. And was that a burning sensation behind my eyes? Was that…usual for me? Christ, if I was a bloody crybaby by nature, I was going to ring for Brenda to jab me with that needle again—this time, in the throat.
Once I had myself under control, I let out a slow breath. “Why do I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me?” I asked quietly.
His hand stilled, but he didn’t look offended. A slight smile crossed that soft, expressive mouth again. “Because you’ve always been a suspicious bastard, Chris, and clearly, that hasn’t changed. Now get some rest. There will be time enough for all your questions.”
“You won’t go anywhere?” I asked.
“Not until you fall asleep.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he bit his lip instead. “I’ll be right here.”
I looked at his hand and then at my cuffed wrist a little forlornly. “I wish I could hold your hand.”
He paused, and I wondered if he’d finally say what he wanted to say. No such luck. After a few moments, he went and pulled the visitor’s chair close to my bedrail. When he sat in it, he was perfectly positioned to take my hand. I sighed with relief once his hand was secure in mine.
“I’ll see what we can do about this cuff tomorrow.” He brushed my dark, lank hair back from my forehead—it could use a good wash. Now that I thought about it, my body could use one, too. Maybe that was why Gray suddenly found me repulsive. “Right now, just rest, baby.”
He looked surprised even as the endearment crossed his lips, and that confused me even further. How far apart had we drifted? I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted beyond belief. Maybe I didn’t know some things, like where I’d been or where I came from. Or who had tattooed Maxim behind my ear and why former me had found that hilarious. I didn’t know what foods I liked or what I did for a living…. I furrowed my brow. All right, there was a lot I didn’t fucking know right now. But I did know this: whatever I had done to make Gray so hesitant with me, I would fix. No matter what.
I fell asleep with his hand secure in mine. I squeezed it, reassuring myself, even half-asleep, that he was still there.
He didn’t squeeze back.
4
When I woke, it was well after five in the morning, and Gray was gone. So were the handcuffs, so I acknowledged—albeit begrudgingly—that he’d made good on both of his promises. He hadn’t left before I fell asleep, and he’d assured Detective Pitbull that I wasn’t a flight risk.
My morning was full of the usual hospital fun—bloodwork, vitals, and another meeting with Dr. Michaels. He seemed pleased with my progress even though my mind still resembled Swiss cheese. The counselors at Camp Don’t You Wish You’d Just Died decided a fun pre-lunch activity would be removing my catheter. I stumbled to the bathroom several times afterward, slow as molasses but glad to be up and moving. “Up and moving” was two steps closer to getting the fuck out of here.
Gray didn’t show up again until after I’d finished lunch—and by lunch, I meant I’d sucked down two kid-sized containers of cranberry juice cocktail, a bowl of grapes, and another dry-ass turkey sandwich. I had to admit that I enjoyed every dry bite of that sandwich.
I was starting to figure out how the hospital cafeteria broke your will. One day, you’re shoving aside your tray with disdain, praying to the Food Gods to rain a little something down on you from Cheeseburger Heaven. By day three, you’re pathetically grateful for anything that showed up on a tray. I was now eagerly marking the time until I could order a cheese omelet for breakfast. They’d said no to bacon and sausage yesterday, but today was a new day. I planned to renew my request for pork products because hope was a stubborn bastard, and apparently, so was I.
Gray was still on shift, dressed in another pair of blue scrubs and a long-sleeved white shirt underneath. He had two coffees in his hands and gave me one before sitting in my visitor chair. Across the room. I stared at him pointedly over my coffee cup as I sipped. After a few moments, he let out an exasperated huff. I raised an eyebrow, and he finally gave in. He stood and scooted the chair closer to the bed… the end of the bed.
“Lay it on me, Doc,” I said dramatically. “I’m contagious, aren’t I?”
He huffed again and moved the chair to the side of the bed. “No, but you’re dramatic as fuck. And I think it’s terminal.”
Those whiskey-brown eyes sparkled in a way that was familiar as a well-worn pair of shoes. And there was that little smile playing on his lips, the one he got when he thought he was being clever. A pang of intense longing hit me in the chest so unexpectedly that it was almost physical.
“I missed you,” I blurted.
His smile slowly faded. He didn’t return the sentiment. Instead, he fished around in his pocket until he pulled out a pack of M&Ms. “I brought you these. I don’t know if you know this, but they’re your favorite.”
It took me a few seconds to swallow around the lump in my throat, mostly because he’d taken my heartfelt sentiment and tossed it in the trash. I didn’t need to remember how it felt to hurt—Gray was more than happy to deal that to me in spades. I reminded myself that I owed him. If it wasn’t for Gray, I would still be named Joe Doe after Nurse Brenda’s fucking cat.
I took the pack of M&Ms and ripped them open. I shook out a palmful of the colorful candies and tossed them in my mouth. It was probably the best bite I’d had since I’d opened my irritable eyes on the operating table. I tossed back some more candies and crunched for a little while. Artificial happiness in a cellophane bag. Only the pack was small and, from the feel of things, my joy was coming to an end rather shortly.
“I wonder what other candies I like?” I asked hopefully.
Gray’s smile was back. “I don’t know, little extortionist. Maybe I’ll bring you something later on tonight.”
“So you’ll be back?”
I felt the strangeness of my question deep down in my soul. I guessed that fit with the rest of my existence. I’d woken up in a place where I had to ask if my boyfriend was coming back to see me or not.
“Of course I will.”
As we chatted, I tried not to think about the fact that I’d said I missed him, and he never responded in kind.
I spent much of the next few days being wheeled from one room to the next. I had scans in the morning to make sure my injury was healing properly—it was—and then they wheeled me off to physical therapy. Around lunchtime, I had a well-earned lunch. I’d been given the green light to progress from the turkey sandwich part of the menu to the teriyaki stir-fry, and it was delicious. Afterward, I saw Dr. Michaels, who assured me I would be discharged in no time. When I queried about what the fuck “no time” meant, he was properly evasive.
I hadn’t seen Gray for three days. I heard his name called over the loudspeaker once, so I knew he was in the building. I’d stopped wondering why he was acting strange and why he didn’t want to seem to get all that close. Clearly, something had happened between us, and he didn’t want to upset me by bringing it up. The fact that my partner of six years was now virtually a stranger added to the growing pit of unease in my stomach. I wasn’t me, and Gray wasn’t Gray. Which left us where exactly?
“Thought you could use some company.”
Speak of the devil. I glanced at the doorway to find Gray as he hovered, looking uncertain. He was in scrubs and had a paper coffee cup in his hand. I didn’t ask him to come closer like I’d done the previous times he’d visited. I was tired. If I’d known he was coming by, I probably would’ve just pretended to be asleep to avoid it all.
Whatever look I had on my face made him flinch. He steeled his jaw as if he’d made a decision and came in. He sat in my visitor’s chair at the foot of the bed. I didn’t want him there. I didn’t want him to leave, either.
He pulled an orange pack out of his pocket and handed it to me. Reese’s. Bingo! Guess he’d gotten the notice about the price of admission. I sent him a half-smile as I opened the pack. When I offered him one of the cups, he shook his head. I shrugged and stuffed one in my mouth.
“’S good,” I mumbled around a mouthful of peanut butter and chocolate.
He grinned. “You think it’s your new favorite?’
“No idea. I think I’ll have to try at least six more to decide.”
He smiled faintly. “Did you see Dr. Michaels today?”
I nodded. “He likes the way my injury is healing.”
His fingers flexed like he wanted to check himself. Now that I thought about it, I suppose it was rather strange that he hadn’t. My throat got unexpectedly tight. If I’d so much as needed a band-aid, he wanted to be the one to do it. A memory assailed me so suddenly that I almost dropped the second Reese’s cup. Gray and I were in a kitchen, arguing good-naturedly as I held my finger away from him and he tried to capture it. Carrots were on a cutting board alongside a discarded knife.
Let me do it, he said, trying to be commanding. It was difficult for him because he was just so damned sweet. The only time he truly got growly and bossy was when I had my clothes off.
My eyes sparkled as I evaded him again. It’s just a nick.
I’m a doctor, baby. Your nicks are my specialty.
“Chris.”
Gray’s soft voice brought me back to the present, where I was squeezing a peanut butter cup to death in my hand. I looked down at the mess dumbly as he got up and went to the bathroom. He came back with a wet paper towel and gently took the candy from me and tossed it in the trash. I couldn’t look at him as he cleaned my hand. When he finished, he dropped the paper towel in the trash bin, too.
He lingered near the end of the bed. “I should go.”
“Please… tell me,” I said haltingly. “Tell me what I did.”
I don’t know which of us was more surprised. I’d told myself I wouldn’t say anything, but that was before I was assailed with those memories. I needed to know why the center of my world only seemed to want to orbit along my edges.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Stalling. You’re fucking stalling, baby. “You’re not being yourself. I know that much.” I swallowed. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up to you.”
“Chris,” he said slowly.
“Just give me a chance to fix it,” I said fiercely, staring down at my hands. “Gray, you’re all I’ve got.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he finally said.
I reached out for him, but he was so very far away. He didn’t come closer, and my gaze turned beseeching. I felt desperate. I didn’t remember much about myself, but I knew I wasn’t a man who begged. But I’d do it. I’d do anything to get that remote look off Gray’s face.
“Please,” I said again.
He cursed. Stabbing his fingers through his hair. He tugged, so hard that it looked like he was hurting himself. And when his hands dropped, it looked like he’d made a decision. He stalked across the room. This time, he didn’t look mad at me. He looked mad at himself.
As soon as he was close enough, I fisted his scrub top in my hands and brought him even closer. He looked like he wanted to resist and devour me in equal measure. I exerted a little more pressure on his shirt, and he lowered some more. Those whiskey brown eyes got heavy-lidded, almost like they wanted to close but he didn’t want to break the intense connection of our gaze.
“Gray,” I said softly.
I saw the moment he capitulated. My heart thumped beneath my ribs like a wild, caged thing. And just as those pink, soft lips came within a hair’s breadth of mine, the door opened. Gray yanked back so fast and unexpectedly that I almost forgot to let go of my grip on his shirt. His pocket ripped a little.
We turned to see a man at the door. He was sharply dressed, what with the vest and expensive watch and slicked, styled hair. He was a little too GQ for my tastes, but undeniably handsome. And furious. When I looked at Gray’s face, I saw that his guilty expression matched mine—I wasn’t sure what I was guilty of at the moment, but the tension in the room was palpable.
“What the hell is going on here?” the man demanded.
“He’s not my doctor,” I ventured, just in case this man was a hospital administrator or something.
Gray ran a hand through his hair as they both ignored me. “Calm down, Dev. I was helping him.” He seemed briefly at a loss to describe how almost kissing me was helping me. “I was helping him,” he repeated firmly.
“Yeah, I saw exactly what you were helping him with.”
My brow furrowed. It was a toss-up which I liked less—what he was saying or the way he was saying it. I was also beyond annoyed that I’d been this close to kissing Gray and we’d been interrupted. “What business of it is yours? He’s my boyfriend.”
The man sneered at me. “No, he’s not. He hasn’t been your boyfriend for four goddamned years. And now you waltz in here stirring up old memories and pull Gray in again.”
I blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You know just what the fuck I’m talking about.”
“Devin,” Gray snapped. “Now is not the time.”
I turned to Gray, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was locked in an eye battle with Devin, and Gray looked pissed. He didn’t get mad very often, but when he did, it was wise to just get the hell out of his way. Maybe that was because he didn’t fly off the handle regularly. I was pretty sure he just stored up his anger, like a camel with a hump full of rage.
