Page 72 of You First
A little girl with wild dark curls leaned forward in her stroller and waved to Oscar. She couldn’t have been more than three. Beside her was her baby brother who looked to be about a year old. Their parents held hands, the dad managing the stroller one-handed while the mom gripped the dog’s leash. Smiling, the mother waved at them, too, and Meredith raised her hand in reply.
As the family passed in front of her and Oscar, Meredith’s eyes lingered on their backs. The young woman had long, brown hair like the children, but the man’s was a chestnut shade that glinted with a hint of silver at the temples. They made a handsome couple, but, clearly, he was years older than his wife.
Meredith’s thoughts returned to Gray.
He was older. And more accomplished. And more sophisticated than she was by every measure. Which was why he was her boss.
She wanted him, and by some miracle, he wanted her, but she couldn’t blur even more lines in her life and maintain any semblance of self-respect.
The life she lived with Jamie was a necessary evil. For now. Until she could take care of Oscar on her own.
But getting closer to Gray was not necessary. As much as she wanted it.
He understood. He was considerate and wise and protective, and he respected her need to keep him at distance. He said he would wait, but Meredith knew that was not a guarantee. She had no idea how long it would take to gain her independence. Despite his words, Meredith tried to picture a future with him and felt nothing but hopelessness.
WHEN SHE LETherself into Gray’s house, she was late. She’d told him she’d be back by four o’clock, but it was edging closer to five when she finally got there. The fight with Jamie and the extra-long walk to compose herself had pushed her off schedule, and she had an apology on the tip of her tongue as she stepped through the front door.
But the sound of raised voices brought her to a halt.
She’d parked alongside Bax’s SUV, so she’d expected him to be inside, but one of the voices that bounced down the hall from the living room was a woman’s.
And one of them was Gray’s.
“I don’t see how you can do this to us,” the woman said, sounding pained, sounding almost destroyed. “Youcan’tdo this to us.”
“To you? This is happeningto me,”Gray fired back. He sounded angry. And instead of feeling afraid of the sound, Meredith wanted to move toward him to comfort him, but she didn’t dare. “I’m the one who has to face this. I’m the one with a decision to make.”
“A decision that affects us all.” A man spoke. An older man. His voice was rough with emotion.
“Grayson,please.You don’t know what this would do to me,” the woman begged. “You just don’t kn—” Her words broke with a sob that carried through the house.
“Mom, come here.” Bax’s gentle voice was barely audible, and the pain in it made Meredith’s skin prickle with cold.
I shouldn’t be listening to this.
Weeping followed, and Meredith turned to leave the house, but as she pulled the door open, she heard Vulcan and Juno scramble into a run, heading straight for her.
“Meredith?” Gray’s call followed them, and she froze.
She turned to find the dogs bounding toward her, and Gray right behind them. One glance at him, and her knees almost gave. He looked like hell. The redness around his eyes contrasted sharply with his blanched skin. His complexion was usually honeyed and warm. Why did he look so pale?
“What’s wrong?” The words left her in a rush, almost hollowing out her body.
Wearing a look of agony, he came at her without slowing, without stopping. When his body met hers, her back knocked against the front door. Gray’s lips crushed hers with such need all she could do was tilt her face up to his.
His arms came around her, and she pulled him closer. She made no decision. There was nothing to decide. Her resolve moments before to keep a professional distance from him seemed irrelevant, completely disconnected from the moment that now held her firmly in its grip.
She felt the tension and distress that thrummed through his body and held his muscles tight, almost at war. And she felt too, when she opened her mouth to his, how those same muscles went slack, softening so that every place their bodies touched, she sunk into him a little more.
A part of her was afraid. Not because they were kissing again. But because of what she felt. The powerlessness of how she felt. But another part was completely at peace. The contentment that came with knowing she wasn’t alone. Gray, clearly, was just as powerless. They were partners in this.
They were partners.
And whatever he needed, he could take.
“What the hell is he doing?” The older man’s voice reached them from the end of the hall. Meredith gave a startled breath, but Gray held her tighter, so she didn’t pull away. Instead she gripped his shirt at his shoulders, and his fingers pressed into her back.
“Jesus, Gray. Have you lost your mind?” This was Bax, disbelief stretching each syllable.
