Chapter 17 - Grayson
Grayson
“Can I see your hand again?” I ask Blair.
She places it on top of the blankets. I want to ask her if she wants to take off her heavy clothes, but not now. Not with us all in the room. It’s too much.
My block dings in my pocket. I told the hospital I’d be late this afternoon, but that’s come and gone. For the last two and a half decades, I’ve given them every spare minute. For the last five years, I’ve given them every minute of my life. But that ends here.
I arrange the primitive tape on her knuckles. “That’s not too tight, is it?” I secure the ends and glance up into her eyes.
She blinks and softly smiles. “No. I’m sure I won’t need it soon enough.”
“Yes,” Alexei says. Like he’s some sort of expert on human physiology now. I’m sure he knows her culture better than all of us. But when did he become a doctor? Really.
I sidestep in front of Alexei and block his view of Blair. “Are you ready to get some rest?” I take her pulse on her uninjured wrist. Strong and steady. I’d send the patient home if I were at work.
Blair leans to the left. Alexei’s playing peek-a-boo behind my shoulder.
“Yes,” she says.
“No—”
Forrest interrupts Sterling. “Yes, and get out.” He grabs Sterling by the elbow, and with a force I didn’t know he had, he yanks Sterling into the hall.
Delmar stops at the side of the bed. “Let me know if you need anything. We should let your family know soon so it’s less likely the Portsmouth pod will . . . worry.” What Delmar really means is they won’t come tearing our door off its hinges with tridents in hand.
“Oh, yes, I should. Soon.” Blair cups her injured hand in her good one.
I raise my eyebrows at the rest of the room. Alexei and Zion are the last to leave.
“Just call—I’ll come running,” Alexei says, but what he means is I’m going to stand awkwardly outside your door until I think I hear you mumble and then come in.
The two of them dawdle on the way out. In some ways, I know what my pod mates are going to do next better than I know what I’m going to do.
“Are you staying?” Blair asks.
“For a minute.” I pull up a chair from next to the wall. “If that’s okay?”
“I’m feeling better. The sedative is wearing off as fast as it came on.”
“That’s good.” I nod twice. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re doing okay here too.” I touch the pillow next to her head.
“I didn’t hit my head.” She stares at me, her lips pursed. “Oh, you mean mentally?”
“Indeed.” I’m not a therapist, but I’ve had some training. Not that I should be taking on a female we are pursuing as a patient of any kind. Bandaging her knuckles is one thing. Blair’s episode in the Grand Dame’s living room? That’s something completely different.
Blair swallows. “I did kind of lose it out there. That’s never happened to me before.
Usually when I’m scared, I just get quiet and .
. . well, I take action later. I figure out what I need to do, like .
. . I would bake something to distract my ex.
Or do extra chores so he didn’t have to do them.
Well, then they became my chores. Hide Marlee and Annabelle.
But no, I’ve never sat on a leather sofa and made noises like a baby goat before.
” A hiss of a laugh comes through her soft pink lips.
“Not a good look. I should apologize to everyone.” Her eyes flick to the door.
“You don’t need to apologize to us, Blair. Everyone has fears. You’re in a new environment. Culture, language, food, everything.”
“Yes,” she says. “Still, it’s . . . embarrassing.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not with us.”
“I hardly know you,” she says.
“True, true. But look at it this way: When you’re getting to know someone, it’s natural to be on your best behavior.
Hide your fears, your insecurities. But now your fear of heights is out.
We won’t offer to take you cliff jumping, and you won’t need to pretend.
Let me rephrase that: You never need to pretend with us. With anyone!”
“Age will do that to you.” She nods, staring at her bandaged hand.
“If you’re lucky, it does.” That’s an advantage of us being a pre-made pod. “Plenty of males my age are still foolish enough to think they don’t have to be honest and real with a female.”
“I guess that’s something Dorian males have in common with the men from my town.”
“Yeah, foolishness is a common trait among all males,” I say. “I just wanted to check in and make sure that you’re not overwhelmed or anything.”
Blair closes her eyes tightly. “I’m overwhelmed. Telling you I’m not overwhelmed would be a lie, but . . . it’s a good kind of overwhelmed. I’m not saying I’m ready for this life or even that I’m ready for one male, let alone seven, but I’m not ruling it out.”
I lock eyes with her, and we share a moment. “I guess that’s all we can ask for, and I’m thankful for that. Thank you. I don’t think we’re ready for it either. So we can continue to be not ready for it together.” I rest my hand on the bed next to her leg.
She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “Together sounds nice.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve held hands with a female. I squeeze her hand back. I don’t want to let go, but if I stay . . . “I’m going to bring you some tea, if that’s okay?”
“Tea would be lovely,” she says.
“I’ll be right back.” I step into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me.
I’m greeted by a wall of my pod mates.
“Is she okay?” Delmar asks.
“Of course she’s not okay,” Sterling replies.
“Wait, why? You don’t know that,” Delmar retorts.
“Of course I know that. She’s a frail human,” Sterling says.
“There’s nothing frail about her,” Zion counters. “That rotten shrimp shell of a lift is garbage.”
“Agreed,” I say. “I doubt any of us would do as well if we’d lived through what she has.
Taken into a new society. No, she’s got a long way to go.
It’s a lot, mentally and physically straining.
But I can see her waking up.” I scan the group, stopping on Sterling.
He shakes his head, pivots, and thuds down the hall to his study.
“He’s going to be a problem,” Forrest says.
Delmar crosses his arms over his chest. “He’s always the problem.”
“Come on, I promised her some tea, and you all can help.”
“All of us?” Alexei says. “How many people does it take to make a cup of tea?”
“Apparently six,” Delmar says.
“Five will do. I’m staying here.” Alexei retrieves a chair from the bedroom across the hall.
“Four,” Clark says and gets a chair too.
“Three.” Zion drops into a squat.
“Two,” Forrest says but turns the other way. “I’ve got documents to go over. Message me if she so much as sneezes.” He points to Clark, who nods.
The kitchen’s dark. Someone had the foresight to send the staff home early before we brought Blair back to our apartment. Forrest, most likely.
“I figured I should help since I sent Rodgers home,” says Delmar, “but he’ll be back later to make a light dinner.”
“You did? Good thinking.”
Delmar turns back to me, getting the kettle on.
Our kitchen is older, but I like it. Apple green tiles line the far wall, and while most everything in our dome is steel, there are rows of copper pots lining the wall—from someone’s grandmother.
But it gives a glow to the room in low light, creating a warm space.
Delmar reaches for a tray and cups without looking while I open three cabinets, searching for the tea.
“Next to the sink,” he says without looking at me. “Get some biscuits out too.”
“In bed?” I ask. I have no idea where anything is. But the array of tea is vast. I search through the tins, popping the lids and smelling a half dozen before I find one that is pleasant in a pale pink container. It reminds me of something . . .
“Give her a plate. I’m sure she can manage to not crumb up the whole thing.” Delmar laughs.
He takes the tea tin and makes the tea while I keep searching. In the back of a cabinet, I find a packet of biscuits.
“Oh, the good ones. Rodgers must have hidden those from Sterling.” Delmar pours the tea into a cup.
I nod and remind myself to give Rodgers a raise. Because there’s not much Sterling can’t find.
Delmar holds a nicely arranged tray. “I’ll run this down.”
“I can take it.”
“I’ve got it. But you should clean up.” There’s not much to clean, but by the time I turn around, he’s out in the hall. “Don’t want to get Rodgers upset.”
There are only a few things to put away, but by the time I catch up to him, Delmar’s in the room and Zion’s standing in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s your plan?”
“I don’t know. Let her rest and send her home.”
“Or let her rest here more and give us more time with her.” Zion leans forward on his heels.
“I can’t lie to the female. Bruised knuckles and a moment of stress aren’t enough to need to convalesce for long.”
“But you could lie. She asked to stay,” Clark says.
“I couldn’t. And she didn’t ask to stay forever.”
Delmar steps out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He pivots between the lot of us and whispers, “So you know, I heard every word the four of you said.”
Zion’s block rings. “Poseidon. I have to run to the job site. I’ll be back.” He jogs to the elevator.
“Blair didn’t, though—she’s human,” Alexei whispers.
“Sure she is, but not even a deaf whale wouldn’t have picked up what the three of you were talking about.”
“Oh.” Alexei shifts on the balls of his feet.
“Oh is right,” Delmar says. “I’ll be back to hold vigil.” His lips turn up in a quirky smile.
“Poseidon,” I say at the three of them. “Speaking of him . . .” I pull my block out of my tunic, ignore the growing number of messages from work, and knock on the door.
“Come in,” Blair says.
“Hi, is your tea okay?” Her cup’s half empty already, so it must be.
“It’s delicious.” The cup clinks on the bedside tray when she puts it down.
“I’m glad.” I’m already making a plan to send her a crate load of it. As soon as I figure out what type it is. “Are you ready to contact your family?”
“Just about.”
“Okay.” My head bobs like an unsure first-year.
“There’s something I need to do first.”
“A nap?” I take her good hand to check her pulse again. Damn, I don’t need to. It’s just an excuse to touch her.
“No, not a nap.”
“Then what?”
“This.” Her fingers latch around my wrist, and she pulls my chest on top of her. Our faces are inches apart, her eyes so blue. Her lips are soft, and my brain fizzles as to why she doesn’t have to stay.