CHAPTER TEN
On Tuesday, the night nurse came in an hour before her shift started so I was able to get out of work earlier than I’d expected. I couldn’t wait to see Grayson. I changed into my street clothes and checked in, then raced to Grayson’s room. He wasn’t there. I frowned, unease settling perspiration on my skin. Something was wrong. He was always in his room. I walked to the nursing station where my friend was sitting behind the desk.
“Where’s Grayson?”
Beth looked up and a strange expression came over her face, making my skin prickle.
“He had a bad day. He attacked one of the orderlies.”
“What?” I gasped. “What happened?”
“Ross was trying to get him to eat.”“Oh, God!” I sighed, shaking my head. They’d been having problems getting Grayson to eat his meals. Over the last few days, he’d become more compliant, but was still very shuttered and distant. He still hadn’t spoken. A few times, I’d managed to persuade him to drink sips of juice, or take a few bites of a sandwich, but overall he hadn’t been eating much. I wasn't too surprised considering what I knew about his dietary idiosyncrasies.
I was sure Grayson didn’t think the hospital food was safe. He was afraid he’d be harmed. He’d always needed to know the exact ingredients of everything he ate. I’d even brought him in a sandwich from an organic market, assuring him that I’d watched it get prepared. But after stingily picking at the contents, he’d refused to eat it. He’d then shot me dark glances of suspicion for the rest of the afternoon. My chest burned with the knowledge that he still didn’t fully trust me, that he might not entirely believe that I was on his side.
“He doesn’t eat anything that he doesn’t prepare himself,” I informed.
Beth shrugged. “Well, I think the orderly was pretty insistent. Mr. Whitmore got angry and all I know is that furniture went flying,”
I couldn’t believe this had happened. “Where is he now?”
“Seclusion.”
I blew out a long breath, saddened to think of him locked up and all alone. He’d be there until he calmed down, and then he wasn’t allowed visitors for an additional twenty-four hours. Not even I could get in to see him. Exasperated, I sighed heavily. This was not the right place for Grayson. He did so much better at home. I must have voiced my thoughts aloud because Beth looked up at me.
“He’s leaving on Wednesday.”
I thought I misheard her. “What?”
“His son is having him transferred to Brightington.”
I frowned, shock spiraling through me. Brightington was a long-term care, in-patient psychiatric facility. They followed very strict protocols. Since I wasn’t a relative, I’d never be allowed to visit Grayson. And I knew there was no way in hell Charles would grant permission for me to see him. Who knew when or if Grayson would ever get out of there?
Grayson didn’t need to be locked up. I truly believed his mental status would suffer for it. He needed to be home. He could get the care he needed from there. I covered my face with my hands, trying to calm my erratic breathing and the fear crashing inside me in turbulent waves. My limbs started to shake.
“He has his final evaluation on Monday.” Beth informed. She tilted her head and regarded me when I didn’t respond. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and walked away. But I wasn’t. I was far from okay.
A few days later, I brought in some clothes for Grayson. I’d bought them, guessing his size. I helped him get dressed and smiled, trying to get the pants closed. What did I know about men’s pants or sizing them? In the past, I’d only aided Grayson in getting him out of the garments. Beyond that, I’d never noticed much else about them.
I’d gotten him a thirty two long, and he was probably a thirty-four giant. He was lucky I hadn’t gotten him a pair of knickers! I always did like those plaid golf thingamajigs. Perhaps I should’ve gotten him a pair of plastic hot pants with an extra tight crotch and a velcro opening. I smiled to myself, my blood instantly heating. Maybe that would’ve been a way to get a rise out of him. I bit my bottom lip, thinking of other, more delightful ways.
He hadn’t given the staff any more trouble. As long as they left him alone, he stayed clear of everyone. He remained cloistered in his room, mostly reading or just sitting quietly. Due to the visiting restrictions, I wasn’t able to spend as much time with him here as I had at the house. The thought of him suffering through his episodes at night, all alone, huddled in the dark, filled me with soul shattering despair.
He took his meds, but only if I gave them to him. I’d even found him sleeping a few times, but he still hadn’t spoken. I missed the Grayson I knew was locked somewhere inside him. I missed his humor and his loving tenderness. I missed his smile, his passion, and his dirty, possessive words when we made love. The thought of him transferring to a long-term facility weighed heavily on my heart.
I tugged on the two ends of his new pants with an exaggerated huff. I’d have thought he would have lost weight given how little he ate. However, he maintained the same muscular build that made my mouth water and bloomed delicious memories in my head.
“Suck it in, old man.” I smiled, rapping him playfully on the belly. I was having a hard time getting the button through.
He looked down at me and I thought I saw mirth light his blue eyes and a hint of a smile on his lips. Finally getting them buttoned, I brought him over to sit in a chair. I moved between his thighs to stand in front of him, combing through his thick hair with my fingers. It was longer now, the shaggy ends feathering his shoulders with a little curl. It seemed as though more gray had snuck into his temples.
His palms came up to rest on my hips and I froze. It was the first intimate touch he’d voluntarily given me since coming into the hospital three weeks prior. I’d been clinging to a fragile string of hope, fearing that it might snap at any moment. But I met Grayson’s blue gaze and my hope braided thick and secure, woven strong with love and promise. I bent down and gently kissed his temples, then pressed my lips against his, feeling a languid heat glide through me. He didn’t kiss me back. He never did, but I kissed him anyway, tracing his soft lips with my tongue. He was still my sexy, sweet Grayson.
Beth walked in at that moment. She stopped short, a brow sliding up.
“Cousins?”
I chuckled, seeing the curious expression on her face. “Kissing cousins. We’re a crazy family.”
I thought I felt Grayson’s palms squeeze my hips.
Jack’s secretary showed me into his office and I nodded to him in greeting.
“Have a seat, Ms. Roberts,” He stood briefly from behind his desk, his face lined with concern.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“Yes, anytime. I assume this is about the unfortunate turn of events with Grayson.” He settled back into his leather chair.
I nodded, knowing that Charles had been thus far his primary source of information. I swallowed nervously, not sure why I sought out this man. I was never one to make waves or stir things up. I was neither kin nor an official caregiver to Grayson, and I no longer worked for the Whitmore family. Jack knew I had a romantic relationship with Grayson, but who knew if he’d listen to anything I had to say.
I couldn’t stand what was happening to Grayson. I had to do something and I didn’t know who else to turn to. A little bit of me died each time I saw him in the hospital, and the thought of him possibly committed for a lifetime was agonizing. I took a deep breath and spoke.
“Yes, it is. However, it’s not just unfortunate what has happened to Grayson, it’s unconscionable.”
Jack frowned and looked a bit confused. He leaned forward on his desk, causing the leather chair to creak noisily in protest. “What are you talking about? Grayson is getting the care that he needs. He’s being transferred to a wonderful hospital that can monitor and care for him.”
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. “Grayson would do so much better if he were back at home. He loves his house. He doesn’t do well in the hospital. Do you know that he hasn’t been eating? Nor has he spoken since entering the hospital.”
“Charles says—”
“Charles has not been to see him! Not one single time!”
I had to take a deep calming breath. I needed to maintain my equanimity.
Jack took a moment, his keen eyes roving over my face. “I know that you care about Grayson, but I heard about what happened at the house a few weeks ago. It appears that his mental status has been heading downhill for a while now. Charles has it all documented.”
I’m sure he does. Control the eye roll.
“Grayson was provoked. Those men just walked right upstairs, unannounced. They probably scared him half to death!”
I refrained from saying that Charles had put the men up to it. I wanted Jack to know I was there strictly for Grayson’s sake, not have him think I had a beef against his son. Although I did—a whole fucking cow. Diplomacy was my goal. I needed to appeal to him using calm logic and common sense, not with a plea of emotional hysteria.
“From all accounts, and I’m sorry to say this, Grayson is not rational. He can’t think clearly.” Jack said.
I sighed heavily. How could I get this man to listen and believe what I was saying?
“Have you heard of Global Systems?”
He raised a brow. “The investment company?”
I nodded. “Yes. That’s Grayson’s company.”
Jack shifted toward me, his brows high on his forehead.
“What? That company is worth close to one hundred million dollars.”
I gulped. Holy Shit! I had no idea. This wonderful, crazy man who I loved dearly, was running a hundred million dollar company from the second floor of his broke-down house? If I weren’t so upset, I would have laughed out loud.
“Well, Grayson started it, and he runs it from his computer in his home. Now, tell me, would a man who’s not able to think rationally be able to do that?”
Jack was quiet for a moment. He folded his hands on his desk, looking thoughtful.
“Look,” I continued. “He’s done it before. You said it yourself—he’s brilliant. I’m not saying he doesn’t have mental problems. He does. Everyone, including Grayson, knows that. I’m saying he doesn't need to be locked up. I’m saying that living in that house means the world to him. If he can be treated at home—then why institutionalize him? His schizophrenia is mild. It’s not as bad as you’re led to believe. In my opinion both as a nurse and as a friend who’s spent considerable time with Grayson, he was making progress before his hospitalization. He’d even started taking his meds again.”
I could see Jack’s face relaxing. I could see him coming around, but I was afraid to be hopeful.
“He would have to be compliant with a treatment regimen. He would also have to be seen regularly by a psychiatrist.”
I was nodding my head vigorously. “Absolutely,” I agreed, but my fingers were crossed in my lap. I would drag him there myself, if I had to. I almost smiled thinking about his defiant blue eyes.
“There is one other issue.” I stated, pausing briefly. “I’m afraid the house might be going up for sale.”
Jack’s forehead crunched with surprise. “I didn’t know about that.”
I straightened my spine. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if you were aware. I thought you’d said that it was Grayson’s house. I thought it couldn’t be sold unless he agreed.”
“Well, yes, however, if Grayson is institutionalized because of a deterioration in his mental status, then Charles does not need his permission. Grayson would be deemed unsound. From what Charles tells me, it seems he lacks judgment or the capacity for decision making.” Jack paused. “I can understand Charles wanting to sell the house. The majority of the Whitmore’s assets is that house.”
I twisted my lips, biting hard on the inside of my cheek as realization carved a clear path through my tangled thoughts. This had been the asshole’s plan all along—to have his father committed so he could sell the house. He wouldn’t need Grayson’s permission. This was all about money. I suddenly remembered what he’d said at his apartment, that he’d be a lot wealthier soon. Bastard!
“Does Charles know about Global Systems?” he asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “Please don’t tell him.”
Jack nodded and blew out a weighty breath. “I don’t relish the thought of Grayson being institutionalized either. I have to admit that I was truly saddened to hear that his mental status had taken a turn for the worse. I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied. I’m sorry.”
“What?” I gasped. I hadn’t expected to hear that. “What do you mean? You have to help!” I choked, water filling my eyes.
Jack’s expression was somber. “Legally, I can intervene in matters involving the estate, but where Grayson is concerned, I’m powerless. Charles is his healthcare proxy. And even with the house, I have no legitimate argument against its sale now that Grayson isn’t living in it.”
The wind had been knocked out of me with the shocking blow of his words. Jack’s lips were moving but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. My entire system had shut down after hearing that Charles was Grayson’s healthcare proxy. Charles had the legal rights to make all decisions regarding his father’s healthcare. He could institutionalize Grayson, sell the house, take all the money, and no one could refute him.
“What can I do? How can I help him?” I asked, trying to quell my rising anxiety.
Jack thought for a moment then scratched his jaw. “The only way would be to have Charles sign his father’s healthcare proxy back over to me.”
I frowned, confused. “Back over to you?”
Jack reclined in his chair. “I was the healthcare proxy for both his parents until Charles came of age. They have no other living relatives, you see, and Charles had been too young. He’s only been Grayson’s proxy for a little over a year. That had been outlined in a will they’d created over a decade ago.”
I nodded, considering this news. Grayson and his wife probably never realized what a heartless monster their son would turn out to be when they’d created the will. Grayson would probably have been able to contest it if his mental status hadn’t degraded.
He’d admitted that his life derailed after his wife’s death. He’d stopped taking his meds. He’d locked himself away in seclusion from the world. When he realized what his son was up to, he’d tried to protect himself in the only ways his disordered mind could devise—with book forts and traps in the floor.
“You and Charles are friends,” Jack continued, reclaiming my attention. “You might be able to convince him. I couldn't. I’m sure he wants what’s best for his father, but I have a feeling it’s been a burden for him. He’s only nineteen. It’s a lot of responsibility. There’re tough decisions that must be made.”
I kept the bland expression on my face, but inside I was imploding. Right. Friends. The only decision Charles was interested in making was the decision to commit Grayson.
“If I can get Charles to sign the proxy over to you, you’ll get him out of the hospital? You’ll let him go home?”
Jack nodded. “As long as his doctors agree to that plan. As long as he’s taking his meds and getting professional help.”
I stood, leaning forward to shake Jack’s hand. I knew I’d have to move the moon to make this happen, but for Grayson I had to believe in the impossible.