Grayson (This is Our Life Book 1) (10 page)

Boredom started the moment I refused the pain medication the staff had provided for my shoulder and my head cleared.  I prefer my senses alert.  I can handle the pain.  It’s not an intense burning now unless I move the wrong way.  Even then it’s tolerable.  Nothing an 800mg Ibuprofen won’t take care of.  The doctor visited last night and mentioned possibly releasing me today.  I want out of here. 

Not one to idly sit around, I know the shit storm that hit the fan the moment General Fox caught wind of the situation over here.  Accountability for walking into a trap hangs over my head.  Hearing the door open, thinking the doctor plans to make good on her promise that I am healing fine and can leave this place, my stare collides with the heavenly eyes of my dreams. "Bluebird?”

After all these years, she walks back into my life and I'm lying in this shit hole, my arm in a fucking sling, wearing a hospital gown with my ass hanging out.  My body thrusts forward, trying to reach her, but she turns away and runs out the door without a word. 
What was that about? Was that really her?
  Maybe I’m seeing things in my overworked brain and the recurrent state of pain I’m in right now. 

The door swings back open a few seconds later. 
Did she come back?
No.  Not that lucky.  It’s that crazy ass nurse, Savannah, wearing a peculiar expression on her face. 

“How are you doing today, Captain? Ready to bust out of this joint?” she questions and reaches toward my arm, adjusting the blood pressure cuff.   “What’d you do?  Your heartbeat is racing a mile a minute.”

“Not sure what’s causing it.  Must be the fucking medicine.  Been doing nothing but counting the cracks in the ceiling.” Pausing dramatically and pointing to the first crack, I begin counting, “One, two, three…”

Ignoring me, she continues, “Sure thing, sugar.  Is that why Ella ran outta here like she just got a visit from the Grim Reaper?” she remarks in a mocking tone.

“Twelve, thirteen…”

I’m not about to discuss Ella with anybody, much less her work associate
if
it was her.  Fucking A.  My curiosity is getting the better of me.  Analyzing the situation and redirecting this fucking conversation to benefit me, I conclude maybe it wouldn’t be bad to know more. I
need
to know more.  

Breaking the silence, I ask, “Ella Anderson?”

She glances downward and nods affirmation.  “She’s been stationed here the last five months.  One of the best folks I know.  You know her?”

“Yeah, something like that.  We went to high school together.  It’s been a while, so I wasn’t sure if it was Blue…um, I mean her.” I slam my mouth closed after that blunder. 

The door opens and a doctor I haven’t seen before walks toward the side of my hospital bed.  Savannah smiles at him and comments, “Oh there’s the man of the hour.  Hi, Doctor Barnes.  Thanks for letting us crash on you and Ella last night.”  Oh, fuck no! 
What did she just say?

She’s watching my reaction.  I’m careful not to show any emotions on my face, but inside, my gut churns at the mention of Ella with someone. 
She’s mine.
  Barnes talks to Savannah, and I take the opportunity to study him.  Tall, lanky build, black hair with a strong Romanesque face.  Brainiac.  He exudes confidence just standing in the room.  Straightaway, I don’t like him.  He has something that belongs to me.  And I know I need more intel.  For now, he’s become my newest target. 

“Well, Captain, everything looks good to go.  I’ll have the paperwork started for your discharge.  With any luck, you’ll be out of here by lunch,” Barnes notes, pausing and scribbling something on my chart as he leaves the room.

Savannah sighs and I wonder what’s next.  I don’t have to wait long. She says, “Ella’s more than a former classmate...isn’t she, sugar,” and follows the path out the door.

What did I think?  That Ella would wait around until I found her? 
Stupid luck, Grayson.
Seven long years I’ve been away from her, not a word or any way of finding her.  She vanished.  And of all the fucking hospitals all over the world, she just happened to walk into mine.  An army nurse at that.  What are the fucking chances?  Later. I’ll get my chance to talk to her. 

Dressed in fatigues with my arm strapped in a matching green sling, I’m pacing the room, waiting for departure.  I’m still pacing an hour later when Johnny, Beauty, and Styx come strolling in. 

“Your chariot awaits, my king,” Styx jokes, pushing a wheelchair and stopping in front of me. 

“No fucking way am I leaving here in that,” I spit out.

“You will if you want to leave, sugar,” Savannah commands, walking from behind Styx.  She’s checking him out.  Her eyes are roaming all over Styx, and he’s enjoying every minute of her perusal.  When she meets his glare, it’s his turn, and it isn’t a casual glance.  No, he stakes a claim on her body and the pleasures awaiting her later.  He’s letting her know what to expect from him, and by their looks, they have come to a mutual agreement with no words necessary. 

When their sensual exchange ends, Styx pleads, “Come on, Captain. We’re going to visit Aabdar before we take you to your temporary quarters. It’s not like we all haven’t gone for a ride in one of these before.  My ass has seen so many it would put your ass to shame.” 

I look at Johnny and Beauty for moral support, but the grins they are sporting help me realize they’re not going to be of any assistance.  Motherfuckers!  No negotiation here.  It’s a losing battle, so I concede and sit down to the joy ride. 
Well, shit! Yee-haw!

There's no sign of Ella as we leave my room and head to the elevator.  A small glance at her would ease the beast’s restlessness I’m fighting with inside.  After seeing her, I know rest is not an option until she’s in my arms again, where she belongs.  Convincing her will be a challenge, but I will be the victor.  Failure is not an option. 

Quietly, Styx wheels me into Aabdar's room. A single fluorescent glow shining above the bed is the main source of light in the tiny room. It’s sparsely furnished with only the hospital bed and a chair.  His body is propped at an odd angle.  I'm shocked at what I see; he's hooked up to so many machines.  It's only been three days since he was almost captured and then shot in the back.  He’s got a long way to go before he will be back on his feet.  The bullet had to be removed and internal damage repaired.  He's one lucky son of a bitch to be alive.  His face is swollen with black and blue bruises, a white bandage wraps around his forehead and left eye. Several cuts and scratches on his bare arms are visible from his struggle during the raid.  A tube is protruding from his mouth as a machine beeps in the background.

"What's his status?" I ask the attending nurse.

"Captain, he's in a medically induced coma, sir. The doctors feel the pain would be too intense for him to remain still.  He requires time for the internal stitches to heal, sir."

Beauty continues, questioning her as to when he could possibly wake up.  Looks like it will be at least fourteen days.
Fuck!
I'm responsible. What happened to him should have been avoided.

Something isn’t settling with the chain of events from our supposed meeting with Mustafa, lead man of the large terrorist group.  No one knew about the meeting location and time except Aabdar, my team, and his second in command of the terrorist cell.  We had kept it secretive for this very reason.  The more people aware, the less it could be contained. 

My head’s screaming that Aabdar is the likely culprit, but why would he walk into the trap with the knowledge he would die?  It doesn’t fit.  He’s not a fanatical and seemed level-headed from the start of the operation.  His family weighs heavy as his responsibility.  He has four children under the age of ten, and is the only source of income and protection.  No. I don’t believe it was him. 

I’ll keep my mind open for the possibility, but a nagging thought continues to sway me in another direction.  It’s time for contact.  I’ll make arrangements for a secure transmission as soon as I’m settled in my new quarters.  General Fox needs to be aware of the situation.  With the nurse reassuring me she would call immediately when he wakes, we head out.

Air.  I need air.  I rush out of the room and bump right into Savannah. “What’s the hurry, sista?” she asks as she catches the chart that fell from my hands. 

“I can’t...I can’t do it, Vanna.  I need,” I gasp for breath,  “I need some air.  You have to take care of this patient,” I whisper through my deep inhalations to Savannah as I turn away and quickly walk down the hallway away from her,
away from him.
  I hear her calling for me to stop, but I can’t, not right now. 

Taking the stairs two at a time as if the devil himself is hot on my heels, I head up to the roof.  With my heart pounding wildly in my chest, I escape through the double doors onto the second story and begin breathing erratically. 
I’ve got to calm down.
Being almost eight thousand miles from Lakeview, I should be protected from the onslaught of ever laying my eyes on Grayson Blackwood again. 
Why? After all this time? It can’t be him.

For seven long years I’ve been trying to eradicate the pain that comes with thinking about Grayson. 

At first, I was crushed beyond recognition.  I didn’t want to get out of bed, brush my teeth, go to school.  Everyday, normal things were a chore on my crumpled heart.   I was crushed.  There were so many unanswered questions, things left unsaid.  He had promised me.  Promised he would be back, vowed we would be together again. 
Promised me that I was his.

Unwillingly, my eyes glisten, remembering the last words he spoke to me the night before he left my world.

“You’re my Bluebird, my zing, Ella.  I belong to you and you belong to me.  Always.”

A pledge stopped short a few months later by the letter he sent me. 
Stupid
.  So a week later, proceeded by a whole bunch of cookies ‘n cream ice cream along with my mother’s insightful lectures and hugs, I was picking myself up to move on.   

Then mom died a month later, which threw me into a whole new spiral of despair and grief.  Even when you know death is imminent, you still aren’t prepared for the emotional roller coaster spin.  To make matters worse, my mom was gone, and the boy I fell in love with escaped my grasp.  Darkness was my friend. 

My dad decided we had to move right after the funeral, so we packed up and left.  What could I do but follow?  I didn’t care anyway; everything I loved was gone. 

The day before we left, I stopped by to see Addie and say good-bye to her.  I made it a point to keep in touch with her after Grayson left, although I hadn’t seen her since the letter.  She didn’t know, I’m sure. It wasn’t her fault. 

When I arrived at the Blackwood ranch, Mr. Blackwood was outside on the porch.  Immediately, I wanted to turn around and run, but digging deep, I faced one of the scariest men I’d ever met.  Harold Blackwood—better known as Wood—stood up as I approached.  His mixed river-moss blue eyes held mine as his mouth turned into a fine, thin line.  ‘He doesn't want me here,’ blared in my head.

“Well hello, Miss Anderson.  What brings you here today?” he growled out the snarky question that I know was not a welcome greeting.

“I was..I was hoping to see Addie, um, Adalyn for a few minutes.  I’m leaving town tomorrow and just wanted to say good-bye.” I felt the nervousness bubbling up through my voice. 

With a satisfied grunt and nod, Wood went back to looking out over his vast homestead.  I made my way to the house and said good-bye to Addie and Mrs. Blackwood. Their sadness and longing bled in each of the words they spoke. 

“Ella, we’ll miss seeing you.  I wish you didn’t have to go.” Addie said, stifling a sob as tears welled up in her eyes.  “Please come back and visit when you can.”

I left Blackwood ranch that day with a heavy heart, entering my newest adventure, but never to return, never to see Grayson Blackwood again.

Coming back to reality, I feel tears streaming from my eyes. My vision is blurry and my heart is aching.  I’m over Grayson Taylor Blackwood.  I have Michael.  He’s perfect for me.  He makes me happy. 
Then why am I bawling my eyes out?
I’m just in shock, yeah, that has to be it, right? 

“Great,” sniff, sniff, “now I’m asking myself questions?”  My body is a stark contradiction to what my head is saying. 

I hear the metal door swing open and close with a loud bang.  Tensing, I frantically wipe the tears away, because whoever is approaching will instantly know by my reddened face and swollen eyes I’ve been crying. 

Soft, feminine arms encircle me, filling my now parched form. 
Savannah.
 

“Hey, honey.  Shhh.  It’s okay. I’m here.” She calmly brushes my hair away from my tear-stained face with one hand while holding me tightly with her other one. 

Crying as Savannah holds me helps my raw heart.  Her next words stop my dreadful blubbering. 

“Does blue mean anything to you?” She gazes down at me with earnest.  “Well, honey pot, I knew the moment I laid eyes on him that it was the infamous Grayson Blackwood before even taking a peek at the chart.  You know I’m curious about this man from your past. He started to call you blue but stopped. ”

My throat closes up and I can’t speak. 
He still calls me Bluebird.  That’s what he said when I walked in the room.
  Clearing my throat, I nod my head with nothing to say. 

Savannah sighs. “I
see,
Ellie pie.” She accentuates the word see.  A fresh round of tears spills down my face, and Savannah takes a deep breath. 

“Listen, sugar, everything will be fine.  He’s being discharged as we speak.  There’ll be no need concerning your cute self with him anymore.  We’ll just stuff those worms right back in the can, ‘kay?  It’s over and done.  He’s leaving, so no muss no fuss,” she finishes off her statement with a hint of sadness in her eyes. 

My head acknowledges what she’s saying...out of sight, out of mind.  Although with that mourning comes the fact that today I got a glimpse of the man, not the boy.  My body was on fire the moment our eyes touched.  Even through the bandages and hospital garb I could see the well-toned muscles of a hard body and his sculpted, matured face made my heart stop.  All those old memories and emotions crashed down on me again. 
What am I going to do?

Finishing up all my rounds, I avoid the room Grayson was in or may still be in. 
Ugh!  I’m a mess.
  I make it home with just enough strength left to shower and crawl into bed.  Michael wouldn’t be home until the early morning because of his rotation. 

Longing and grief bombard my every pore.  What I wouldn’t give for Michael to be here to put his strong, soothing arms around me, caressing me, whispering to me that everything would be fine. 
Michael
.  I can’t tell him about this.  There really isn’t a ‘this.’  For now, I’ll try to bury those feelings and memories.  Besides.  Like Savannah said earlier, he’s checked out.  Hopefully to never return.

Being alone with my thoughts is very dangerous.  I’m tossing and turning in my bed, the same bed I share with Michael.  But my mind keeps drifting back to Grayson.  I should be ashamed.  I shouldn’t think about him, not here, not ever. 

The brain is an interesting organ.  It can invoke pain, grief, happiness; so many emotions, even pleasure.  And right now, flashes of prom have hijacked my imagination.

“You don’t have to say anything, Ella.  Just let me love you.  Even if it’s just for this one special night,” he whispered.  “Let me show you how much you’re wanted and what you do to me.”
 
I feel his tongue caressing my clit.  I'm soaring.  My body no longer belongs to me. It's his.  Pleasure crawls up my spine, through my body in a massive feeling of bliss.  My stomach tightens, and I begin to fall into mind-blowing pleasure.

I clench my eyes tightly, my body aching for a release from the memories.  Too far gone as the lost accounts of Grayson's touch assault my senses.  Memories I’ve kept locked up tight, forgotten, touch my aching heart.  I move my hand slowly down my aching body to my silky Victoria Secrets and slide my fingers between the material and flesh.  Caressing the hood at first, my fingers extend lower into the hot wetness seeping from my pussy.  Rhythmically using the juices my body is providing, I paint gentle circles on my clit, dipping inside my slit, triggering small contractions around my fingers.  Mimicking Grayson's cock.  All the while my mind races for a glimpse of the ecstasy I felt when Grayson touched me.  Not wanting the feeling to end, I pull my fingers out and start all over again. 

My breathing labors from the rush of pleasure and the tightening in my belly.  With my other hand, I caress my nipples. They’re hard and distended.  I am lost in the illusion of Grayson stroking, sucking, and touching me. Panting as goosebumps crawl up my flesh, I thrust my fingers in and out, in and out, while my other hand lowers to my clit.  The pleasure continues as I near the edge of oblivion.  Each stroke takes me closer.  Moans fill the silence and my body explodes.  Ripples of pleasure tingle all over, soaring from the orgasm my body so desperately seeks. 

Sometime later, my labored breaths are gone and I'm left empty again...and thinking about Grayson.  The fire was lit again and I’m not sure I can extinguish the burn this time. 
I’m in big trouble...yep!