NINE GRAYSON

N INE

G RAYSON

"Good morning," an unfamiliar voice called out.

"Hi," he said hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"MedStar," the voice said. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore."

"Grayson!" His mom sprang out of the oversize chair and was in his face. He closed his eyes at the way her hand felt in his hair.

"What happened?"

"You're in the hospital. Do you remember me telling you this the other day?"

The other day?

"No," he mumbled as he tried to adjust himself in the bed. "Why does my throat hurt?" Grayson looked at his mom and frowned. He had never seen her look ... old before. She had always been young for her age, and people often mistook her for his sister. One time someone had asked if she was his girlfriend, which made Grayson want to punch the guy. Not because he was insulted but because the man insinuated that his mom had done something untoward to him.

Sydney had raised Grayson on her own when her boyfriend abandoned her after he'd gotten her pregnant. Young (still in high school) and with no place to live, she'd worked and continued her education. She always put Grayson first and hadn't abandoned him when the doctors told her he was sick. Sydney worked harder to give him a good life.

Now, her features made her look older than she was. Grayson was concerned.

He reached over, closed his eyes when stretching hurt, and rubbed his thumb under her eyes.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"Not a thing, my sweet boy."

"Then why have you been crying? And why does it look like you haven't slept in days?"

"I'm okay. I promise." She ran her hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. "You collapsed after one of your men's league games."

"I did?"

Sydney nodded, and tears fell from her eyes. "Yes, and you were brought here by ambulance."

"Oh."

"That's not all," she told her son. "Your heart condition—" She paused and made eye contact with him. Grayson saw the look in his mother's eyes and knew a lecture was forthcoming. He hadn't taken his meds in a while, and when he had taken them, it had been sporadic at best. For whatever reason, he lived by his machismo attitude: nothing could bring him down. He was climbing the corporate ladder at the Wold Collective, he had an amazing group of friends, and for some reason the woman he was in love with gave him the time of day, even though he didn't deserve it. Grayson didn't need pills to make himself feel better because he felt great. Besides, he was healthy and happy. Those bottles, hidden in his bathroom, reminded him he was weak, and he didn't like how they made him feel.

And then he remembered when he didn't feel so well or when his chest hurt, and he'd ignored it. He looked away from his mom before she could see any type of realization in his gaze.

"Everything's good now?" he asked in a shallow voice.

Sydney hesitated and then offered a weak smile. "You have a long recovery ahead of you, Grayson."

"For a heart attack?" he asked. "That seems extreme."

"Honey." Sydney sat on the side of his bed and held his hand in hers. "Your heart ..." She paused as her breathing hitched. She cleared her throat. "Your heart was too damaged to repair. You were put in a medically induced coma due to several things, but mainly to keep you stationary and allow your body to get stronger."

"My heart's damaged?"

Sydney shook her head. "Not anymore. Now it's healthy."

"How?"

She inhaled deeply and smiled. "Because you received a transplant."

Grayson let the words sink in. They sank. And continued to do so until they were fuzzy and not making any sense. He looked around the room. Sterile. Plain. He was by himself, aside from his mother and a barrage of machines. Grayson followed the lines to under the blanket that covered him, and then he saw the tubes with pink-tinged liquid traveling through the casing.

"Mom," he said in a panic. "What is that?"

Sydney leaned over him and saw where he pointed. "Drainage tube."

"I have a tube in me?"

She placed her hand on him. "It's best you remain calm. Do you want me to get the doctor?"

Grayson shook his head quickly. "No, but what the fuck is going on?" As soon as his breathing deepened, the monitors began beeping. He looked at them in panic and felt his blood pressure rise.

The door to his room slid open. "Hey, Grayson," the nurse said as she came in. She pressed some buttons, and the beeping stopped. "I'm Jillian. How are you feeling?"

"Scared."

"That's normal. I'm going to take a look at your incision."

"My what?"

Jillian lifted his blanket and pulled back the bandage that covered his chest. He watched every movement and questioned how he hadn't known he had a massive piece of gauze covering his torso.

"It might be best if you don't look," Sydney told him as she pulled his face toward hers.

"But—"

"Later. You can look later, once you've processed everything."

He nodded and kept his focus on his mom. She was beautiful and the most important person in his life, aside from Reid. Although she didn't know it. Grayson had wanted to tell her how he felt, but he couldn't. At least not then.

When the nurse finished, she told him she'd be back in a few.

"Mom." Grayson looked to her for answers.

"I know it's a lot to take in, honey. You're going to be fine."

"With someone else's heart?"

She nodded.

"Whose?"

"We don't know, honey. Donations are anonymous."

"But someone died to give me a heart?"

"It doesn't work that way, Grayson. Someone passed away, and you were a match."

"And they just cut me open?"

Sydney didn't say anything. Grayson wanted to be alone but didn't have the nerve to ask his mom to leave him. Not that he excepted she would, under the circumstances. He also couldn't roll over, because looking at the machines that were doing who knew what wasn't an option either. Grayson tried to lift his head to look at his blanket-covered body, but the strain was too much. He was weak—something he had never been, and had promised himself he would never be.

A tear dripped from the corner of his eye. He lacked the effort to wipe it away or even care it was there. So much went through his mind as he stared at the ceiling. Would his new heart love Reid? His mother? His stepdad? Would he still be able to play basketball? Did he even love basketball anymore?

What about his job? How was he going to pay rent or for health care if he couldn't work? How long would he be out of work?

And then the ultimate, soul-crushing question popped into his mind—did he even want this heart?

He wanted to live, but not at the expense of someone else. Was there someone more worthy than him who could've used a new ticker? Grayson was certain there was.

"Do you want to see Reid?" Sydney asked.

Did he? He waited for the excitement that normally came when he thought of her. Was the extra thump he felt his new heart's way of saying he still felt the same?

"Grayson?" Sydney said his name softly. "I know it's a lot to take in. We're all here for you, though. Reid has been here every day since you came in. Gilbert comes every night after work. I stay here. Pearce comes every other day after work. We all love you so much."

"How long have I been in the hospital?"

"A little over a month," she said quietly.

"A month?" He could barely get the question out.

"Yes," she said.

"Jesus. I lost thirty days of my life?"

"We don't look at it that way," she told him. "Your body needed rest in preparation for your new heart."

"It's not mine," he told her.

"It is," she countered.

"No, it belongs to some dead person." Until now, he had never thought about organ donation. He always assumed that when his time was up, it was up. That's why he kept Reid at arm's length, because he wasn't supposed to be here. Had his mom just messed with the natural order of things?

"I'm going to get Reid for you." Sydney rose and left Grayson alone in his room. Well, as alone as he could be with the machines chiming next to him. The tube running from his chest sloshed, and he was thankful he was smart enough not to look.

Grayson could smell Reid before he saw her. She gripped his hand and then came into view. God, she was damn stunning, with her auburn-colored hair and expressive eyes the color of milk chocolate. He waited for his new heart to react, to be on the same page as his brain. He was relieved when he felt a surge of love wash over him as she trailed her fingers down the side of his face.

"Hey," she said melodiously. "I'm so happy to see those beautiful eyes of yours."

"Is that all?" he asked, cracking his first joke.

Reid smiled and chuckled. "You just had major surgery, and you're already joking?"

Grayson would've shrugged, but he had a hard time moving. "What can I say? You bring it out in me."

She ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and waited ... anticipating his body would push her away, reject her. His mind knew he loved her, but did the rest of him?

Yes, he decided, it did.

"Will you answer some questions for me?"

Reid nodded. "As best as I can."

"Why does my throat hurt so badly?"

She smiled. "You had a breathing tube in until yesterday."

"I don't remember."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. They put it in when they took you for surgery the first time."

"The first time?"

"Yeah, they rushed you into surgery when we first got here. That's how we found out you needed a transplant."

"Oh."

"How come you didn't tell me you were sick?" she asked.

Grayson closed his eyes. "I didn't want you to judge me or mother me about things."

"I wouldn't have."

He eyed her questioningly, and she shrugged. "Okay, fine. I would've. But only because I care about you so much. This really scared me, Grayson. I thought I was going to lose you, and the last thing you would've remembered me saying was for you to stop faking."

"Faking?"

"I thought when you asked for help that you were faking things because I told you I was going to start dating."

"Oh." His heart sank, and he knew this new one would love her the same because he loved her. Grayson didn't need some blood-pumping organ to tell him how to feel. "Are you dating?"

She shook her head, much to his relief. "No."

"Are you going to?"

"Maybe? I don't really know right now, Grayson. There are things I want out of life."

Tell her how you feel!

He squeezed her hand. While he might not know what those things were at the moment, he surmised he could probably give her something she needed or wanted. "When I get out of here, do you want to go on a date?"

"Of course. I'll come over and make you a low-fat meal, and then eventually we'll be back to doing trivia night at the Green Turtle."

"Gross."

She smiled. "Lots has to change, Grayson. You're going to have to live a whole different lifestyle. I'm sure the doctors will fill you in before you're discharged. I've already cleaned out the garbage from your apartment."

He should've been mad, but he didn't have it in him to be angry at her. He did, however, want an answer to his question. "So, about that date?"

"What are you talking about, Grayson? I'm with you all the time."

Grayson tried to adjust but felt something pull and thought better of moving. Instead, he angled his head, hoping like hell he was flirting with her. "I want to take you on a real date," he said. "Not out to dinner after work, but the two of us, where we get somewhat dressed up, go dancing, and have a nice meal."

"Sure, but let's get you mended first," she said, a little less enthusiastically than he'd hoped.

Grayson lifted his hand toward her face. It hurt to move his arm, and thankfully Reid recognized this and came closer. When she was close enough, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer. "Reid," he said before his lips pressed to hers.

She didn't gasp the way he thought she would. Not how he imagined she would when they finally kissed again. Not how she had when they'd spent the one night together.

He hated that his lips were rough against her soft ones. Gently, he moved his lips with hers. Lightly caressing them as if she were the fragile one at the moment. The thump in his new heart felt stronger, sounded louder, affirming that he was, in fact, still very much in love with her.

Grayson went to deepen the kiss, but Reid pulled back abruptly. She tasted sweet like cinnamon apples, which reminded him of last fall, when they'd gone apple picking and then made a pie in her kitchen. He tossed flour on her, they flirted, and while he wanted to kiss her then, his life was so complicated.

A new heart removed the complication between them. He had a new lease on life. A second chance. And something deep in the recesses of his mind told him not to squander it.

She covered her lips with her fingers, and then it was like a veil had descended over her. The moment shifted.

"You should rest," she told him. "You need to heal."

He deserved the cold shoulder, the brush-off. If he were in her shoes, he'd act the same way.

There was a knock on the door, and then three doctors came in. They introduced themselves, and Reid said she'd be back in a minute. As soon as she was gone, the medical team began detailing his recovery, the need for physical therapy, and the strict diet he'd have to follow. That third item had Grayson rolling his eyes. He wasn't some old man and shouldn't have to eat like one.

"We also suggest therapy," one of the doctors said. "You'll need help coping with the changes your body is going through and accepting the magnitude of what you went through. Most of our patients know beforehand about their transplant and meet with a therapist prior to surgery. You didn't get the opportunity to do that."

Grayson didn't say much. Everything the doctors said was a reason why he didn't take his meds, never watched what he ate, and enjoyed drinking beer every night after work. He wanted to live on his terms, not the terms of some medical association telling him what to do.

But now he had a second chance at life after being reckless with his first one. He'd kissed Reid and told her he liked her, or at least hinted in that direction, although he wasn't entirely sure she'd believed him. He'd have to show her he meant it. There was no way he could let her down now. She'd never forgive him.

So he nodded and listened to what the doctors told him. Grayson would go to therapy, both physical and mental. He'd eat better, because his mom and Reid would make sure of it. He'd follow the rules and guidelines and make it to all his follow-up appointments. Grayson would be better for his mom. For Reid. And for the person who had died in order for him to have a new lease on life.

That was heavy. Having thoughts about a person who had died. He placed his hand over his heart, and everything hurt.

Except it didn't.

Grayson's mind was playing tricks on him. The drugs kept him pain-free. Anything he felt was a figment of his imagination. Sure, they'd cut his chest open, removed his second-most-vital organ, and put a new one in, so to his mind, his body should hurt. He should feel the pain from the incision, from them breaking his ribs and then sewing him back together.

He felt longing. Desire. Love.

Reid came back into the room after the doctors left and sat next to him. They held hands and looked at each other.

"I'm alive," he told her.

"You are, and I'm so damn happy because of it."

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay," she told him. "You're fine now, and that's all that matters."

Grayson asked her about his job, and she filled him in. Everyone at work was happy he'd made it through surgery. They had donated sick days to cover what he lacked until his medical leave kicked in. Pearce had a countdown going to when they could get back on the court, and the women had started a calendar of meals they planned to make him.

It all sounded good, except for the fact that he'd have to spend his days by himself. One of the aspects of his job that he loved so much was the fact that he worked with Reid every day. He was about to ask her again about the date when his mom and stepdad walked in. More alone time with Reid would have to wait.