CHAPTER SIX
I tapped my code into the digital pad, answered the security question, and then entered the house. Shadows knocked around inside, but like a trained lab rat, I made my way through the maze of clutter. I didn’t want to think about what I was doing. It was foolish, I knew. Grayson had thrown me out of this house the last time I was here. It was the memory of his body’s response, and the urgent passion in his kiss that kept my feet moving forward and up the stairs. It was also something else: A desperate longing I had for this man that I couldn’t explain.
I found him sitting at his computer, bathed in dim light, again busily pecking at the keyboard. His broad back was hunched over and from what I could see of his face, it was pinched in concentration. A huge lump of anxiety sat at the base of my throat and I had to saw my voice through it. I could hear the rush of blood in my ears and my palms grew damp. I cleared my throat and called his name. His hands stilled, but he didn’t turn around.
“Grayson?” I called again, holding every muscle tight.
Finally, he swiveled in the chair, facing me fully. His eyes were wide, questioning, seeming doubtful of my presence.
“Grayson, I—I needed to see you.”
He shook his head and the shadow of uncertainty cleared. He whispered, “What are you doing here?”
I stood before him, paralyzed by his gaze, knowing I must look like a total mess. My nightshirt ended mid-thigh and was covered by my short jeans jacket. My bare feet were pushed into my sneakers, and I knew I must’ve had some serious bed head after all my restless tossing and turning. Dressed for seduction. I took halting steps to his chair and stopped directly in front of him, my heart ramming against my ribs as if trying to break through.
He tilted his head, gazing up at me, and I thought I saw a small smile seduce his lips. “Was there something you needed me to put together?”
I caught my lip between my teeth and nodded. I looked away, feeling as fragile as thinly blown glass. If he sent me away again, I’d shatter.
“Yes,” I whispered. “My heart. It’s broken.”
He was so still that I wasn't sure he’d heard me. I took a chance at looking into his eyes. The blue was consumed by the shadows, but the inky depths sparkled like a midnight sky and was dotted with emotion.
“Angie, how old are you?”
I hadn’t expected that question. I thought about lying. Would he believe I was forty and had found some great facial products? Hmmm… In the end, I confessed, “Twenty four.”
Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed and leaned back into his seat.
“Do you know how old I am?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I don’t care.”
“I’m old enough to be your—.”
“I don’t care!” I said, dropping to my knees. My palms rested lightly on his thighs. “It’s just a stupid number and it means nothing to my heart.”
He leaned forward and studied my face, and I wished for the millionth time that I had the ability to decipher his thoughts. He feathered his fingers down my cheek, dragging hot sparks along my skin. He traced the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, and I turned my face into his palm and held it tight against my open mouth. I placed a kiss there, then pulled back and stared up at him. I unveiled all my emotion, hoping he could see what was burning in my heart.
“This is no deception, Grayson. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you.”
A deep groove split his brow, but I could sense his resolve dwindling.
“Besides,” I grinned. “You make great coffee.”
He gifted me with a smile that tilted my heart off balance. “You don’t give up easily, do you, Angela Roberts.”
I shook my head, biting my smile as I boldly rose to sit on his lap. He positioned my legs so that my thighs straddled his in the chair and my arms wound around his neck. I loved the warmth of his body pressing intimately against mine. It was a good fit.
“How do you know my full name? I never told you,” I inquired, smiling, then answered my own question. “Oh yeah, that’s right, you’ve been stalking me.”
“Stalking?” He seemed to ponder that word.
“It’s just that you seem to be a recluse. I’ve never seen you leave the house. Yet, I could sense you following me.”
He nodded thoughtfully, his brows furrowing. “I don’t like people. But, in your case…”
I held my breath, waiting to hear what he’d say. Did I dare hope that he’d admit to having feelings for me?
“I was curious,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “I wanted to know more about the person who’d been coming into my house every day and ‘not bothering’ me.”
I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. Then my gaze landed on the screen, noting the columns of numbers and a logo that read: Global Systems.
“What do you do on there all the time? Stalk people? Is that your work?” I teased.
“I buy and sell small companies.”
Oh. I nodded, impressed that he could do that from home. Then I remembered that he’d run his own successful business for many years.
“What else do you know about me?” I brushed his hair back with my palms, letting the soft strands sift through my fingers.
He smiled again, his hands coming to rest at my waist. “I know that you are persistent, motivated…you walk everywhere, you have a strange obsession with paperclips, and you’re all thumbs.” He wiggled his at me. “That you like your coffee with a little milk, no sugar, and…that you have horrible judgment when it comes to men.”
Although his last statement made me think of Mark, I knew it had been a shot at himself. I tightened my arms around his neck. Despite what he’d said, I had no intention of letting go any time soon.
“You know nothing about my life, Angie—nothing about me,” he said earnestly, giving up his previous lightness.
I cradled his face between my palms and looked into his eyes. “I know you have issues, Grayson. I also know that when you look at me, I melt. I know you are brave, and smart, and protective.” I smiled. “You’re good at fixing things.” Heat filled my cheeks, but I plowed ahead, still smiling. “Which is good because I seriously thought that you were going to break your chair when you orgasmed.”
He sucked in a shocked breath, but then laughter rumbled from his throat and crinkled the corners of his eyes. I joined in, marveling because I’d never heard him laugh out loud. The musical sound stroked down my spine, then saturated every cell inside me.
“What did you think of the sketches?”
His laughter tapered off, but his eyes were still twinkling with mirth.
“Well…” he drawled.
“Well, what?” I asked warily.
“About those sketches... Your depiction of reality is somewhat… exaggerated.”
I tossed my head back with unrestrained laughter. I guess I’d been a bit overzealous in my rendition of his nude form.
“I think I’d have to be a member of the horse family for that sketch to be accurate.”
I laughed again, hugging him close. I knew that I’d felt a connection with him, knew that this man with his own brand of humor had somehow seeped into my skin, but who would‘ve thought that this playful, exquisite, truly beautiful human being was hiding amid all of this rubbish. It was like finding a perfectly polished diamond in a sea of gravel.
“I draw it as I see it,” I responded cheekily. I’d included the sketches in the thank you note because I wanted Grayson to know how I felt about him. I adored the lines of his body: The form, the passion, the intensity. He was simply beautiful. I kissed the tip of his nose, then rested my forehead against his.
We were so close that I caught the breaths pushing from his lungs, inhaling them into mine. The shadows wrapped around us and we were cocooned in our own private oasis.
“You’re so beautiful, Angie,” he whispered, warming me. “What are you doing with me? I—”
I leaned in and kissed him, intentionally silencing his words. His lips melted against mine, feathery soft and quietly reverent. So different from the feverish kiss we’d last shared. His tongue licked tenderly into my mouth, skimming the edges of my teeth, and stealing back his breaths.
“Oh, Grayson,” I sighed. I palmed his cheeks and looked into his eyes. “I enjoy spending time with you. I love the way you gaze at me when you think I’m not looking, the way you smile when I tell a stupid joke, and even the way you tease me.”
He smiled then, tracing the bow of my lips with his thumb. He leaned in and licked his tongue along the seam then drew my bottom lip into his mouth, gently sucking the flesh. I pressed into him, small whimpers of pleasure bubbling out of me. His mouth shifted and his lips planted a garden of kisses over my face and neck. I shuddered from the sensation, nascent desire coursing through me. There was an intensity to him that simmered just below the surface, and with each sweet kiss, I could sense more and more ripples undulating.
My nipples hardened painfully, stabbing against my shirt, and for every brush of his lips, my pussy gave an answering throb. Sitting astride him, I could easily feel his erection pushing toward my cleft. My nightshirt had ridden up above my hips and the thin panties I wore were an inept barrier. He flexed his hips toward me. At the same time, his hands at my waist mashed me down, grinding me against his swollen cock. He dragged my center up and down the thick ridge until I was groaning and breathing erratically through my nose.
“You are such a temptation…” he breathed.
I grinned. “Good.”
“I want to see you, Angie. All of you,” Grayson whispered, stopping to push my jacket from my shoulders. He looked into my eyes. “You are so perfect, so full of light and passion.”
I breathed deeply and raised my arms when he pulled my nightshirt over my head. The ambient air swirled against my naked skin, dusting it with goose bumps. My craving for this man was insistent and consuming. To finally be in his arms and to feel the absolute rightness of it had me blinking back tears.
I dusted kisses along his jaw and down the column of his neck, tasting the sweetness of his skin. I needed to experience him with all of my senses. I needed to know this was not just another fantasy.
His hungry gaze took in my heavy breasts, then with a groan, he palmed them and rolled the peaks between his thumb and forefinger. He replaced his fingers with his hot mouth, whipping the tight bud with his tongue, then suctioning the crest hard. He then paid homage to my other breast, thorough in his attentions. Streaks of pleasure shot through me, causing me to arch my back and squeezing a broken moan from my throat. I felt his touch down to my aching sex.
My body was on fire. It screamed for him and my fingers gripped his hair with all my strength. My pussy was an insistent, greedy monster that demanded satiation and drooled liberally from its desire to be filled with him. I started panting his name, humping him wildly now and pulling impatiently at the zipper of his pants. His hand moved between us, slid down my body, and plunged into my damp panties. His finger found my needy clit. I shivered with the first touch, so close to exploding that pleasure ballooned inside me, taut and precarious. Grayson reached lower, slowly circling my slick entrance.
“Mmm, Angie, you are so wet,” he whispered hotly against my ear. “You’re dripping. Do you want my cock?”
He captured moisture on his fingers and dragged it up to my clit, rubbing and flicking it until I was trembling and screaming for him to never, ever stop. Each time my muscles tightened, he drew back, petting me softly and killing me quickly.
“Do you, Angie? Do you want me? You feel so good, so wet. I bet you taste delicious,” he said as he leisurely spread my juices along my sensitive folds.
I was lost somewhere in my head. I was percolating with lust and shaking with need. My thighs trembled because my nervous system was a wreck, and with all this, I was in a kind of shock. I don’t know what kind of lover I’d expected Grayson to be, maybe skillful, but somewhat reserved. Timid maybe. I knew I hadn’t expected this. The way he stoked my body and controlled my pleasure was masterful and intensely provocative. I was ready to burst.
“Do you, Angie? Do you want me to fill you with my cock?”
I groaned my response because I didn’t think I could actually put words together. Plus, I loved the sound of his voice and his deliciously dirty words. They were enough to set me ablaze.
“Answer me,” he whispered, his open mouth hot and wet against my neck. “Answer me, so we can both have what we want.”
“God, Grayson! Yes! Yes!”
He reached down and jerked open the front of his pants, giving his shaft freedom. I scooted back, my gaze devouring him as the bulky length sprang free. He was just as I’d sketched him. Beautiful. Thick. Eager. Even in the dusky illumination, I could see a road map of heavy veins beneath the tight velvet skin. His crown was fat and glistened with pearly drops of moisture.
I dipped a finger into the slick fluid and traced it slowly around the bloated head, loving the way his cock bucked and spilled more essence. Grayson’s groan was guttural, an inarticulate expression of a desperate need. I looked up to see that he was studying my face, his expression fierce. His body was locked stiff, yet consumed by fine tremors.
“I need you,” he uttered.
He grabbed my hips with both hands and somehow my brain jolted with awareness. I reached out a palm, placing it flat against his chest.
“Wait!”
I heard his ragged breath fly away as I jumped up, looking for my discarded jacket. I shimmied my soaked panties off while he jerked his pants farther down his hips. Spotting the jacket, I snatched it from the floor, searching through the pockets.
“Condom!” I said, sliding back onto his lap and waving the packet in front of him.
“You do it,” he smiled, nipping my jaw playfully. “The way I feel right now, I’ll probably rip it to shreds.”
I wasn’t any better. My fingers shook miserably as I performed the task. He was swollen so thick that I had trouble rolling it down. And listening to his choppy breaths as I handled his shaft was driving me out of my mind. Finally, I was done and my arms encircled his broad shoulders. He pulled me close and captured my lips. I tasted hot sunshine and velvety rainbows, and sighed contentedly against his lips.
Lifting my hips, he slid me slowly down onto his scorching hot cock. We both cried out, desperate souls clashing together in an ecstatic passion. I needed a minute to adjust to his size, but pleasure lashed at me to move and drove my hips forward. I’d craved him for so long. The nerve endings he rubbed inside were sizzling like grease on a hot stove. He lifted me, dragging delicious sensations along my quivering walls.
“Oh, fuck!” I breathed, tightening my grip on his shoulders as he worked my hips up and down his swollen cock, increasing the tempo. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
“Angie, beautiful, Angie. You feel amazing, so tight, so wet, so hot… so… so… fucking amazing!”
He ground me down on his cock on the last words, flexing upward and filling me so completely that I gasped. His mouth covered mine to lethargically feast on my lips as he changed our tempo to an indolent rhythm. He was massaging a spot inside my pussy each time he thrust that burst exquisite pleasure through my flesh and had my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
The slick walls of my channel quivered and tightened, yet he offered me no respite. He gripped my ass and pumped into me fiercely, his rhythm now rough and demanding. He gave me everything, took everything, and became everything. He filled my very soul to the brim with perfection. Tears blurred my vision and rolled down my cheeks. I knew the orgasm was coming, but when it crashed into me, I was ravaged. I was shaken by its intensity and the absolute purity of my release.
I dug my nails into his shoulders as ecstasy bowed my back to almost breaking. It consumed me, wringing every last drop of bliss from my body as my pussy spasmed uncontrollably. Grayson was moving faster now, his hips punching out of the seat. His magnificent cock swelled and pulsed as he chanted my name over and over against my shoulder. With a thunderous roar, he flung back his head and came in long hard spurts.
We held on to each other, sweating and panting, our breaths tinged sweet with our pleasure. I never wanted him to leave my body. I was afraid to move, afraid to disturb this cloud of absolute contentment.
Oh God, I could lose myself to this man…perhaps I already had…and I didn’t care. Not one damn whit. Grayson’s arms were home to me.
I shifted and peeked at him through my heavy lids, my fingers pushing back the locks that had fallen onto his face. He smiled gently, his thumbs brushing away moisture from my cheeks.
“You’re crying…you okay?”
I nodded and leaned forward, placing kisses at his temples where gray had salted his dark strands. My throat was full of emotion, and along with the pleasure still buzzing through my body, I felt remarkable joy.
“It’s late. Let’s get you to bed,” Grayson said, standing.
He kept me wrapped around him while he stepped out of his pants. I pressed my hips close, keeping us joined. I loved the feel of him inside me. I loved the physical, intimate connection. He walked my depleted body down the hall and deposited me on his bed, then pulled away. I must have whimpered when we separated because he smiled and kissed me slowly, licking his tongue deep into my mouth. I kissed him back eagerly, running my palms down the slope of his back and caressing his bare ass.
“Be right back,” he whispered before heading into a room I assumed was the bathroom.
I scooted up on the bed and got under the covers, enjoying the feel of the cool sheets against my naked skin. The room was dark but I could still make out some furniture, and I realized this was where he’d been when I’d first spied on him.
A few minutes later, he came back into the room and I watched his naked form come toward the bed. My heart rate picked up speed just from the sight of him. He was such a beautiful man. His body was strong, toned, and even in the dark I could see that he was still half hard. He stretched out beside me and pulled me into his arms. Smiling, I snuggled deep into his warmth, my entire being sighing a soft purr.
I don’t know what woke me. I couldn’t have been asleep for very long, but a gnawing unease jarred me awake. I sat up in the unfamiliar bed and looked around with my heart thundering. Hazy morning light was sneaking into the room. Grayson was nowhere in sight. Did he ever sleep? I’d been surprised to find him awake when I’d gotten here. I wasn’t able to shake the disquiet that hovered over me like a ghost. A tremor moved through me at my sudden chill and I scrubbed my palms up and down my naked arms to ward off the sensation. I stood, aware of the wonderful soreness below, and headed into the bathroom. I peed and washed my hands, looking around. The room was surprisingly clean, especially in contrast to the rest of the house.
Curious about the man who spent most of his time in this house, I pulled open drawers and snooped in the cabinets. One drawer was filled with medication bottles. It was a mess. Frowning, I picked up a couple and read the labels. Some were dated as recently as a year ago and others had dates going back years. All were either antipsychotics or sedatives. For the most part, the bottles were full and untouched, some with the pharmaceutical wrapping still intact. I returned each bottle and closed the drawer.
Grayson was still not there when I returned to the bedroom. Still feeling troubled, I dragged the sheet around my body, and went to search for him. I found him in the room with all the books. He was crouched on the floor naked, his body dimly illuminated in the faint light. At first, I wasn't sure what he was doing, but as I approached, I saw the expression on his face and my stomach bottomed out. I raced over to him, alarm streaking like a blazing arrow through me.
Grayson was amid the scattered books, curled up, with his hands fisted tightly at his temples. The tendons on the back of his hands stuck out beneath his skin from how tightly he was gripping his hair. The look on his face could only be described as absolute terror. My insides tightened painfully.
“Grayson? Grayson?” I squatted on the floor next to him, not sure if he’d even heard me, not sure of my own voice. “Grayson!” I yelled, when I got no response.
His gaze rambled all over the room, scattering blindly like runaway marbles. Finally, it landed on me, but not with recognition.
“He’s here! He’s here! He’s coming!” he hissed.
“Who? Who’s coming?” I asked, confused by the panic straining his voice.
His blue eyes shifted wildly again, zipping to the window. Fear bunched up his face.
“HE’S COMING!” he screamed, and the agonizing sound tore a hole through my heart. “Ch-charles is here! I can hear him! I can hear him! I can hear him!”
What. The. Fuck. I took a deep breath, trying to lasso my run away thoughts and dull the ache that was growing in my chest.
I followed his gaze to a branch knocking against the window and realized that must be the sound he was hearing. I swallowed the burning tension scalding my throat and looked back at his tightly contorted face.
“Grayson,” I called softly, my throat working hard. “Grayson, Charles is not here. It’s just a branch hitting the window.”
He looked pained, shaking his head in vigorous denial.
I reached out a tentative hand, not wanting to scare him.
“Charles is not here,” I repeated and pointed. “It’s just a branch. Look, see. It’s just you and me.”
“Yes! He’s here! He wants to take it away! He wants me out! He’s at the window! I can hear him climbing, trying to get in. Don’t let him get in. He wants to take it away!”
My palm rested lightly on his forearm. I tried to keep it from shaking. “Take what away?”
His eyes splayed wide as his gaze met mine. The edge of his hairline was slick with sweat, giving his skin a sickly pallor. “The house! He wants the house! He’s always climbing, trying to find a way in.”
I shook my head, realizing that Grayson was very confused and profoundly delusional. It gutted me to watch him so emotionally distressed.
“No. He wants to fix up the house for you. He wants you to be safe here. He’s told me that.” I tried to explain.
“NO! My family! My family! Peter. Oh God! Peter!” His face screwed up in anguish and I ran my trembling hand over his hair, pushing the damp strands back. I watched as shadows crept into the confusion on his face, outlining his inner torment.
He wasn't making any sense. Who was Peter? Was he hallucinating? He didn’t seem to be, but his words just didn’t make sense. I couldn’t imagine what was going on in his head. His life was still a huge puzzle to me and I had no idea until now the extent of his mental illness or how much he suffered. I pushed away the sickening ache clawing at my body, determined to be strong for him.
He reached out and grabbed my shoulders, gripping me tightly. His eyes bore into mine, angry.
“You! Are you plotting with him? Are you on his side? Are you trying to take the house away from me?”
“No, Grayson.” My voice splintered with emotion.
“Please, not you, Angie! Not you!” He shook his head in despair, his eyes shiny. “They’ve always come to clean, but they want to take it away.”
Who was he talking about? Who came to clean? Had others been here before me? Tears blurred my vision as I bowed my head, trying to make some sense of his words. The branch knocked again and he flinched, crying out in a bone-chilling wail.
“Don’t you hear him, Angie?” His gaze jerked around wildly. “He’s climbing up the side of the house. Don’t let him get in.”
I bit my lip. God, how could I help him? How could I make him understand that it was highly unlikely—if not impossible—that Charles was climbing up the side of the house right now, trying to get in? Maybe if he saw for himself.
“We can go look, Grayson. You can see for yourself that no one’s there.”
“NO!”
He snaked his arms around my waist, squeezing so hard that my breath staggered out of my lungs. He burrowed his head into my chest, rooting like a baby.
“He comes at night. Always at night.”
“No one’s here except me, Grayson. Only you and me.” My tears fell as I soothed his hair, the drops disappearing in the dark strands. They sprang from a well deep within my heart, a heart that was breaking to pieces to see this beautiful man suffer such mental agony.
Every time the branch hit the window, Grayson’s body seized tight with fear, then relaxed to a constant tremble. I wanted to go out and cut that damned tree down. I prayed to God to still the wind, to sever the branch, to camouflage the sound. Anything. I felt helpless and was totally at a loss. I wanted to find a way to convince him that what he thought was happening wasn’t real. After some time, he seem to calm and relaxed the death grip he had on my body.
“Grayson, come back to bed. Please.” I implored quietly.
“No! I can’t sleep. Too much in my head. It won’t stop,” he whispered weakly. “It won’t stop. It won’t stop. It won’t stop. It won’t stop. It won’t stop.”
So, I sat there on the floor amidst a sea of scattered books, crying silently and enfolding his naked body in the safety of my arms.
Hours later I rushed home, the morning light chasing me. I wanted to get back before Anna woke up. She was going home today and I couldn’t wait. As much as I loved my sister, I needed to be alone with my thoughts, to contemplate the most wonderful and most sorrowful night I’d ever had.
I’d left Grayson on the floor covered with the sheet. He’d finally fallen asleep. I knew that it wouldn’t be for very long. I could see his eyes moving restlessly beneath his closed lids. His frenzied mind kept going, causing his dark lashes to flutter as quickly as a humming bird’s wings. I worried about him now, if he was still entertaining his delusions, still terrified of his son. I remembered the stark terror on his face and choked on the memory of his pain.
From what I recalled about schizophrenia, the city was the worst environment to live in. The constant stimulation wreaked havoc on a brain that was already working double time. Why would he not take his meds? He seemed to be so highly functional. He knew he was ill, he’d told me so himself. The medications would help to dampen the noises in his head and untangle his twisted thoughts.
I opened the door to my apartment, crept inside quietly, and shrugged out of my jacket. Walking by Jenny’s room, I decided to peek in to make sure that Anna was still asleep. She’d always been a late riser and it was only after eight am. I eased open the door and stuck my head in. There was no sign of her. She was gone.
I called out for her, growing more and more concerned as time ticked by. Where the fuck could she have gone? She didn’t know anyone in the city and didn’t have money to get home. I used the bathroom quickly, then entered my room and pulled up short, spotting the clothes I’d worn to the party last night. I thought of my sister snuggled up on Charles’ lap. Oh my God! If she was with him, I was going to fucking kill her!
I snatched up a pair of jeans and hopped into them, swearing vividly when my zipper got stuck. I was so angry I could spit nails. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed she’d be with Charles. He was a total jerk. The way that asshole had smiled at me, as if he was responding to a dare when I told him Anna was off limits, left no doubt in my mind that he’d go after my sister. I was pulling a T-shirt over my head when my cell phone rang. I spotted it on my night table and dove for it. It was my father.
“Hey, glad I caught you. I called earlier, but you didn’t answer.”
I blew out a long breath, trying to slow my racing heart.
“Must have been still asleep.”
“What time should I pick up Anna?”
I gulped. “Uh. Geez, we’re having so much fun.” I bit my lip. “The later the better.”
“I think Barb is taking her somewhere. Hold on,” I heard him shouting to my mother and her answering voice in the background before he returned to the phone. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
Fuck! How was I supposed to tell him I’d lost my little sister? Although I had a pretty good idea where the witch might be. I hung up the phone then tried calling Anna. Her phone went straight to voice mail. Swearing harshly, I grabbed my keys and headed out.
I pulled open the apartment door, prepared to go loco when I finally found the wench. I was already walking on the edge of an emotional tight rope, barely keeping my balance. My sister wasn't making things any better by wiggling the rope. The morning’s events still had me very rattled.
Anna was standing in the hall as I pulled open the door, her hand reaching for the knob. I heaved a noisy sigh of relief coupled with agitated frustration, then I pulled her roughly into the apartment.
“Are you okay?” I asked quickly.
She raised her brows, regarding me as if I’d gone mad. I noticed she was still wearing the same outfit from last night, but it wasn't unusual for Anna to hop out of bed and into the same clothes she’d worn the previous day.
“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn't I be?”
“Where the fuck have you been?” I was annoyed by her cavalier attitude. “You weren’t in your bed! Where you with Charles?” I narrowed my eyes, my gaze roving over her body, looking for just-fucked signs. I wanted to cry. This was my baby sister. She was still innocent…well, kind of. Mostly. She’d once confided in me that she’d given a bunch of blowjobs and handjobs, but had never gone all the way.
“I wish I’d been with him.” She shot me an accusing look. “Thanks to you, he probably wants nothing to do with me.” She plopped onto the couch in a sulk.
Relief sighed through my body, but I was still suspicious. “Then where were you?”
“Down the hall helping Kim and Diane clean up from the party. The apartment was a mess. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”I stood there, silently studying her, my hands at my hips. I’d seen her throw bullshit coated with maple syrup at my parents a million times. I was trying to figure out if she was feeding me the same.
“Jesus Christ!” She exclaimed, throwing up her arms. “My hymen is still intact, if that’s what you’re afraid of! Wanna check? Just ask Kim and Diane if I was there.”
“I was just worried, that’s all,” I said, seeing how upset she was getting.
She stood and faced me, giving me more attitude. “Meanwhile, I should ask you where you’ve been!”
I knew my face must have instantly reddened because she pushed up her lips and gave me a long melodious, “UmmmHmmm.”
I turned away, aware that her gaze was assessing me for the same just-fucked signs I’d scanned her for. I also knew she’d find them with arrows and neon lights all over my body. My hair was a mess, my chin grazed from Grayson’s stubble, and I knew of at least one vivid love bite on my neck. I’d seen it when I’d used the bathroom.
“Dad will be here soon. You better get ready,” I tossed out, heading toward my room.
I could feel her gaze digging into my back, but I was done talking. I had too much to think about.
As soon as Anna left, I showered, changed, and headed back to the house as fast as my legs would take me. My mind was in turmoil and I was on edge with worry about Grayson. I had to make sure that he was all right. I practically ran through the maze of debris, knocking over a pile in the process. I didn’t care. I was going to be the one to clean it up, anyway. I passed my oasis and walked right up to the door.
It was locked.
I swore like a drunk sailor and stepped back. I should have known. I now noticed that the sign with all the crossed out words was gone. Fuck!
“Grayson!” I called, pounding on the door. “Grayson!”
Nothing.
Fuck! I tried the stairs in the kitchen. Same thing. The door was locked. I pressed my forehead against the cold wood and let my tears come. Was he okay? Was he still in pain? Why would he not let me in? We’d had an amazing night together before everything else happened. I’d thought we’d really connected. Had I not told him—shown him how much I cared about him? Did he not trust me? He’d asked if I was plotting with Charles. Did he believe that?
“Grayson, please…let me in.” I hiccupped.
Nothing.
I went back to the main room, and although my heart wasn’t into it, I slowly started to sort through an old pile of thick hardcovers. I worked for several hours, finding a kind of solace in the monotony of the task and the knowledge that Grayson was close by, upstairs. I hoped that he would come to me, or at least open the door so that I could go to him.
I was so tired from the emotional tumult and from being up almost the entire night, that I must have fallen asleep with my head on the table. When I awoke, it was late evening and darkness had snuck into the large room and smothered it. I tried both doors again before leaving, and my heartache was renewed with each disappointment.
I idled outside on the patch of lawn before I left, staring up at the second floor. I felt bereft. My body ached to hold Grayson, to be flooded with his sunshine. My heart wept with my feelings for him. I told myself I was stupid for being so worried, that I was stupid for caring so much. Grayson had been here alone for God knows how long. He’d been dealing with his illness for half of his life. He was fine. He was probably upstairs dutifully pecking at his keyboard, as always.
If he had no interest in me, I should forget about him. He was just a hot old man I’d fucked, I thought churlishly. No. Big. Deal. I forced myself to turn around, to go home, to put one foot in front of the other.
The next day, I worked a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. I was surprised when one of the doctors asked me out on a date. He was a resident, just finishing his training. He was nice, with beautiful blue eyes that reminded me of Grayson’s. I said, ‘No,’ giving the excuse that I was in a relationship.
As I walked home, I thought about that. I was in sort of a relationship. Only too bad the other party might not know it.
On Monday morning, I went to the house early. I gave a frustrated sigh when I tried the doors and found they were still locked. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. This man was so fucking frustrating! Crazy fucker! I immediately felt bad for thinking that, but I was now teetering between indignant anger and wretched heartbreak. Had our time together meant nothing to him? Why did I think that we’d had a special connection? We hadn’t even known each other for that long. Why did I have to equate sex with emotion? I knew better. I wiped away more tears, feeling my insides crumbling.
I took a break for lunch. I needed to get out of the stuffy house and feel the sun on my face. I walked along the avenue, somewhat bewildered when I found myself in front of Charles’ building.
I hovered outside for a moment, then went in and had the doorman announce me. It was Rudy. He seemed as surprised as I was that I was going up to the apartment, but I had a lot of questions circling in my head. Perhaps Charles could answer some of them.
Charles welcomed me with a bright smile. He reminded me of a baby shark with too many teeth. Although I had more respect for the shark. He had on a pair of sunglasses and looked like he was just heading out.
“Sorry to show up unexpectedly,” I said.
“You know I’ll always make time for you.” He opened the door wide and ushered me in. The penthouse was immaculate. Gorgeous. Unrecognizable.
“Wow,” I said, scanning the room. “What a big difference.”
“Not a fur-ball to be found, or a crumb to be brushed,” he grinned, alluding to our initial conversation here.
Maybe not, but I’d bet there were still some panties tucked somewhere.
“I lost Jack’s information, and I need it,” I lied.
He pouted, giving me an exaggerated sad face. “Is that the only reason you’re here? I was hoping you’d come to see me.”
“I need to call him, to set things up. You said to do that, right?” I ignored his antics.
“Yes. He handles the estate.” He took out a pen, found some paper and started scribbling.
“I see. Do I have to go through him for everything? Does he make all the decisions?”
Charles looked affronted. He straightened and squared his shoulders. “No. Well, I have to approve things. Was there something else that you needed?”
I shook my head. “No, just wondering, in case I needed more supplies.”
He shrugged, handing me the piece of paper. “You can just let him know.”
I tilted my head and regarded him. “Am I the only one who’s been at the house to clean?”
His forehead pinched and he took a minute to respond. “Why do you ask?”
“A few days ago, I found some mops in the kitchen that looked kinda new. Just wondering.” I lied.
He shoved his blond hair off his forehead. “Well, I did have a crew in there a few months ago, but my father scared them away on their first day. I told you, he’s very particular, and he doesn’t like people in the house. I think you’re the only one he hasn’t run off.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, feeling my stomach churn. Hadn’t he told me he didn’t want to hire a cleaning crew because he wasn’t sure how his father would react? Yet, he’d already done it. Why the lie? “I see.”
“The man’s paranoid. He thinks all sorts of crazy things.”
“I’ve made a lot of progress.”
“Great. I’m hoping that by the end of the summer the house will be ready.”
My belly did a strange flip-flop. “Ready?”
A small smile touched Charles’ lips. “Yes. You know, more habitable. I’m hoping to have all the stuff cleaned out and then start repairs. My dad can be safe and won’t have to live in a place that looks like it needs to be condemned.”
“That’s very sweet of you to do this for him,” I said.
His smile widened to a boyish grin. Baby shark.
“That’s me. As sweet as pie.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And just as tasty.”
Eew. “Gotta go. Thanks,” I said and headed through the door.
Jack Collin’s office was on the thirtieth floor of a glass and steel skyscraper. He seemed to be more than a little surprised to see me when his secretary showed me into his office. He stood and shook my hand, smiling. He was a short, stocky man, balding, with kind, perceptive eyes.
“Thanks for seeing me,” I said, taking the seat opposite his desk.
“No problem. You could have just settled what you needed over the phone with my secretary. You didn’t have to make a trip here. Were you able to arrange the refuse removal with her?”
My gaze traveled out the glass windows behind him, taking in the sleek buildings nearby that jutted up to the sky. I thought for a minute before I responded. I, myself, wasn’t quite sure why I was there.
“Yes. It’s been arranged. Things are coming along well at the house,”
He folded his hands on his desk, smiling. “Yes, Charles speaks highly of you. He said you’re doing a terrific job.”
“I’ve had a few issues…”
His thick brows shot up into his bald head. “Issues such as…?”
“Well, uh…” My gaze shifted back to the buildings. “Grayson Whitmore.”
He was quiet and I returned my gaze to his face after a few beats. He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know he’s been a problem before, but I assure you, he’s quite harmless. His bark is worse than his bite. I’ve known Grayson for a long time. We are—were good friends.”
“No, no,” I replied, shaking my head. “He’s been fine. Really.”
Jack’s forehead pleated. “Then I don’t understand. What’s the issue?”
“He’s quite worried about losing the house. I think maybe that’s why he’s been problematic in the past.”
He paused, scratching his jaw. “I know that Grayson is attached to the house. He grew up there. But his worries are unfounded. That’s not going to happen.”
“He believes it will.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Grayson believes a lot of things that are not necessarily true.” He eased back in his chair, his eyes on my face. “How do you know this? What exactly is your relationship with Grayson Whitmore?”
My cheeks heated as I studied my fingers twiddling nervously on my lap. I could feel Jack’s assessing gaze on me. I knew that by coming here I’d open myself up to all types of scrutiny.
“We’ve become…friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yes.” I looked up. “We’ve become friends. I’ve been upstairs. We’ve talked.” I omitted the part about him not having anything to do with me recently.
“Is Charles aware of this friendship?”
I shook my head. “No. And Grayson and I would like to keep it that way. I hope you can honor that request.”
He studied me for a long moment and I wanted to squirm in my seat. I knew he had read between the lines.
“I see.”
“Grayson is a wonderful man! He’s funny, and protective, and gentle, and…” I trailed off when I saw a hint of humor in Jack’s eyes. I guess I’d been gushing like a love sick teen.
He cleared his throat and his face sobered. “You’ve been upstairs? You’ve talked?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s amazing because Grayson doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. The last time I was in the house, he wouldn't even let me up. He’s a sick man, Ms. Roberts.”
“Yes. I know about his mental problems.”
He eyed me closely. “You know he’s a schizophrenic.”
I paused for a moment. “I know he’s an amazing man, with many wonderful qualities who happens to suffer from schizophrenia.”
That hint of humor returned to his brown eyes as he regarded me with a deliberate patience. I held his gaze, refusing to look away. I would not allow Grayson to be defined by his disorder. Although it infiltrated much of his life, he was so much more than a diagnosis.
“Grayson hasn’t been taking his medication.” I added, realizing that I’d adopted a defensive posture. I forced my shoulders to relax. Jack seemed to be a trustworthy man.
“Charles has informed me. It’s a shame, really. He’s brilliant.” Jack sighed and leaned forward on his desk. “I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you, but since you’ve become friends, I guess it’s okay. He’s been dealing with mild schizophrenia for much of his life. He does fine when he takes his medication. He’s changed over the past few years—not for the better.”
“Since his accident. Since his wife’s death.” I supplied, and he nodded.
“Yes. His mental status has deteriorated considerably. Charles tells me that he’s quite paranoid. He’s refused to get help. We’ve sent in social workers, psychiatrists, therapists, everyone we can think of. He’s run them all off and refuses evaluation.”
I frowned. “He’s really not that bad. He’s pretty high functioning.”
Jack smiled. “Well, maybe you bring out a better side of him.”
I blushed. “Like I said, he’s just worried about losing the house. I don’t think he trusts anyone.”
“Well, you can assure him that it’s not going to happen. The house is his. It’s in his name only. It’s his right to stay there as long as he wants to. No one can take it away from him. You can assure him of that. Charles wants to clean it up for him and do the necessary repairs. It’s a hazard for him to live there in its present condition.”
I smiled, standing. “Thank you for your time. I will let him know that. One last question. Do you know who Peter is?”
Jack sighed heavily and a shadow crossed his face. “Peter Whitmore was Grayson’s father. Unfortunately, he was severely schizophrenic. He committed suicide in the house when Grayson was a young man. Grayson was the one who discovered his body.” Jack shook his head gravely. “Grayson locked himself in the house with his father. When the authorities finally got in, I heard that it took several people to pry Grayson from his father’s dead body. It’s tragic, really. That might be why he feels so connected to the house. Even though he’s traveled all over the world, he’s never actually lived anywhere else.”
I could feel the color drain from my face as I nodded and turned to leave. My entire body was numb from his words, from imagining what Grayson must have endured.
“Ms. Roberts?”
I turned back to face him.
“From what little the professionals were able to assess, they’ve assured us that Grayson is not a danger to himself or others.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to get between any friendships he’s developed, God knows that the man’s been through enough. But I don’t know what you’re expecting from this. I wouldn’t want you to delude yourself.”
He left the statement hanging and I felt the poignant words echo in my heart because I’d wondered the same thing time and time again. A heaviness settled in my chest and I wanted to burst from the accumulating grief. I supposed he was also worried that I might be some money grubbing harlot. I stared back at Jack.
“We’re just friends, Mr. Collins. I just want his friendship.”
Right now I was willing to settle for anything. I just wanted Grayson to be okay.
By Thursday, I’d resorted to stationing myself on the patch of grass in front of the house and throwing small pebbles at the windows on the second floor. I was pathetic. I know. But I couldn’t give up on Grayson. My heart wouldn’t let me.
Throwing the stones had been a desperate act of trying to reach out to him, a way of hopefully getting his attention. It always seemed to work in the movies. He was supposed to come out and one of us was expected to launch into a love song, or recite a sonnet or some shit… anything…I just needed relief from my grim despondency.
My emotions had been so frayed, and my heart so heavy, that I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d even started eating all of Jenny’s preservative filled, heart-attack-in-a-can goods. SPAM was now my comfort food.
Now, here I stood on the lawn with the sun beating down on me. I was missing most of my shots because I have the worse aim ever. In fact, I found myself dodging the stones as they came flying back down at me. It was only after I’d finally given up that I realized I might have done more harm than good. Who knew what Grayson would make of the noise. I’d witnessed what had happened with the tree branch. I could have just sent him into a delusional crisis. Good going, Angie! You always knew how to drive a man crazy!
I scoffed at myself and brushed off my hands as I reentered the house. I’d seen signs throughout the week that Grayson had been in the kitchen. It seemed he was carrying on as usual. I thought about my meeting with Jack as I packed up to leave for the night. It did seem that Grayson’s fear of losing the house was irrational, a product of his paranoia and delusions about Charles.
Why Charles was the catalyst of the erroneous perception, I didn’t know. Perhaps there’d been some conflict between them in the past. Although I didn’t like him, Charles only seemed to have his father’s best interest in mind. He clearly wanted the house repaired and was concerned about its deterioration.
Jack had been unequivocal about Grayson’s legal right to stay in the house as long as he wanted. If only I could get Grayson to believe that. If only I could get him to start taking his meds again. If only I could get him to let me help.
Friday, I woke up pissed. I was hopping mad. I’d had sex with this man, and now he was ignoring me. Again. I didn’t exist to him. For him, our time together had been a meaningless excursion in physical pleasure. Well, I was done.
I’d never worked so hard for a ‘non relationship’ in my life. Hell, I’d never worked so hard for an actual relationship before. I was tired of feeling so miserable, tired of crying myself to sleep every night. It was spring break. I should be having fun and enjoying my reprieve from school. Instead, I’d been forlorn and heartbroken the entire week, feeling like a hollow shell. I showered and shampooed my hair, singing the tune of “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair”. My anger was empowering. I got dressed and went to the house, resolute and feeling good about my decision, about the new and improved me.
There was coffee waiting for me on the table when I arrived and I almost burst into tears, but I immediately stemmed the flow. I’d promised myself no more tears. I stared at the cup as if it was the devil’s brew and completely ignored it. I was tempted to try the door for the hundredth time, but would not allow myself to fall off of the ‘I’m okay without Grayson’ wagon. I was done with this craziness.
I turned away from the table to get started with my chores, and Grayson was standing not ten feet away from me.