Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Greyson
On Saturday, before we were due at my parents’ house for the celebratory playoff-win barbecue, I holed up in my workshop behind the house, trying to finish the latest custom bookshelf I’d promised a customer.
My dad had always been handy, and I’d taken after him in that department.
Be it wood or cars, building and fixing things were my stress outlet.
It had been Paisley who initially encouraged me to start selling the pieces I crafted after we got married, since she was obsessed with the bookshelves I’d built as her wedding present.
And the extra income didn’t hurt either, especially when I got to do what I loved at the same time.
Last I’d checked, Paisley was inside, resting on the sofa, book in one hand and arm hanging down to pet Rosie with the other.
I tried not to hover, and when I’d come into the house for my second glass of water in a thirty-minute window, she shooed me out with a look that told me she was onto me.
But I’d left the back porch screen door open, so if she needed something, I’d know.
My phone rang next to me on the workbench, and I winced at the name flashing across the screen.
Keegan Tate wasn’t a bad guy; he was a fellow retired Marine starting up a new security-detail company—a fancy name for bodyguards, really—that employed veterans.
It was a way for them to use their training in a civilian way, and honestly, it was brilliant.
He’d offered me a job, but the main problem? The start-up was in Tennessee.
Paisley and I had been discussing it before the accident. But now . . .
Sighing, I wiped my hands on a rag and tapped to answer. “Keegan.”
“Grey, my man, I hope you got good news for me.” Keegan’s voice was too bright.
My gut clenched, but I kept my tone even. “Not the news you’re hoping for.”
“So you’re not moving forward? You sounded pretty stoked about it before.”
Stoked was a strong word. I was considering the option, nothing more. “That was before.” I cleared my throat. “My wife was . . . in an accident. Moving isn’t a good plan right now.” While it was a good gig, Tennessee was a long way from home.
Keegan swore softly. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Pais has amnesia. She doesn’t remember our conversations about the job offer. I can’t uproot her right now.” Not when she was struggling to figure out where she belonged.
“It’s a lucrative offer,” he said enticingly. “A lot to give up for a woman.”
“Not any woman. My wife,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
Keegan wasn’t heartless, but he was a divorced, uninvolved dad who put the casual in dating. He wouldn’t understand.
“Is she okay?” he had the courtesy to ask.
“Yeah, just . . . working through a lot.” Keegan and I weren’t super close, so I wasn’t about to spill my guts about all the hiccups we’d come up against.
“Okay, man. I mean it’s your choice, and I can’t promise the position will still be here when she figures her life out or whatever, but call me if you change your mind, okay? Good luck.”
“Gonna need more than luck,” I grunted. Then pulled my phone away from my ear to stare at the blank screen. “And goodbye to you too.”
I shook my head and dropped the phone back on the workbench, keeping it handy in case Paisley texted. Two seconds later, it rang again.
“Keegan, if this is you . . .” I muttered but stopped when Gabe Carson’s name popped up. “Gabe, hey.”
“Hey, yourself. I heard what happened. Sorry it took me so long to call. We were on a training exercise.”
I chuckled wryly and sank down on the workbench. “After this week, I almost envy you.”
“How is she?”
“I’m assuming Stephanie told you what happened?”
“Yeah, but I’m calling for you.”
So I told him everything. Watching Paisley fall.
The accident in slo-mo plaguing my nightmares.
Holding her fragile body in my arms. It’d only been a week, but it’d been the worst week of my life.
“She still doesn’t remember me beyond what we’ve told her,” I said roughly.
“The doc said it’ll take time. Maybe it won’t ever come back. ”
Gabe listened quietly until I finished. “I’m sorry, man. It feels insignificant to say that, but I am.”
“Thanks.” I blew out a breath and stared out the open garage door into the backyard. The lawn needed mowing. I should have done that first thing this morning before it heated up.
“How were the nightmares?” Gabe asked cautiously. “Before this?”
I ran a hand through my hair, belatedly remembering the varnish I’d spilt on them.
Definitely needed a shower before we headed to my parents’.
Gabe was one of the few trusted people in my life who knew the extent of the PTSD I had from the last deployment I served before my medical discharge.
Partly because we were close friends but also because he’d been on that mission, too.
“Honestly? They’ve been better the last year.
” I cleared my throat of the clogging emotion.
“Things were more settled. But now . . . now Paisley is overlapping Liam in the dreams.” I wasn’t sure which was worse.
That my wife kept dying in my arms over and over.
Or the fact my brain was starting to erase the loss of my former best friend.
“You know I’ll listen any time, right?” Gabe’s strong voice cut through the mental clutter.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
And he would. Gabe might not be my commanding officer anymore, but we were still brothers-in-arms. He wasn’t leaving me to face these things on my own.
“Any advice?” I said at last. “About moving forward with Paisley?”
Gabe chuckled. “Oh, now you’re actually asking, huh?”
“Hey, I’ve matured,” I joked. I might have been less than enthusiastic about some of his opinions while I was dating her, even if I had to admit he was one of the smartest guys I knew. He’d mainly been after me to not mess things up because Paisley was his little sister’s best friend.
“Yeah, you have.” Gabe sighed. “Honestly, I’d tell you the same thing I told Nash Prescott.”
“Stephanie’s fiancé asked you for advice on how to date your sister? Guy’s got guts.”
“Okay, maybe some of it was unsolicited—”
“Maybe?”
“Do you want my help or not?”
I rolled my shoulders, the lightness of the conversation despite the heavy topic easing the tension in my muscles. “Shoot.”
“Woo your wife. Pursue her, like you did when you were dating. Be as single-minded about winning her heart as you were back then. Because while this might not be new for you, it is for her.”
“Hmm,” I mused. “Not a bad idea.”
“I have those occasionally.”
Going out on a limb, I changed the subject. “Hey, do you still keep in touch with Keegan Tate?”
Gabe was quiet for a minute, and it spoke volumes. “Not like some of the other guys, but I know about the security firm he’s starting. Veterans as bodyguards, right?”
“Yeah.” I scrubbed my fingers with the rag. “He tried to recruit me.”
“You gonna go for it?”
“I don’t know. Paisley and I were talking about it before the accident, and now . . . now she doesn’t remember me, the job, or anything of our life together. Uprooting her feels like the worst possible thing at this moment.”
“Can I give one more piece of advice?”
I laughed weakly. “I need all I can get, man. I’m so out of my depth.”
“Take it from the guy who had to learn this the hard way. Talk to her. And don’t put it off too long. Women are smart—Lord knows smarter than us—and they’re always thinking with past, present, and future in mind. She’s an adult, she’s capable. Communicate with her.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I hear you. And when did you learn this valuable lesson?”
“Several times. The first time, I was eighteen and dumb when I went off to boot camp without actually telling Ivy I’d enlisted. Learn from my mistakes.”
“Amazing she married you.”
“Trust me,” Gabe grunted, “I thank God for covering for my foolish mistakes daily.”
I chuckled. “Pursue her and talk to her. Solid plan. Thanks.”
“I’m a call away if you need me. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Our conversation drifted to Gabe’s last remaining months with the Marines.
Once his contract expired this winter, he’d be out after over twenty years of service.
The current plan was for them to move to Colorado to live with his nana—Charmain Russo Addams. Stephanie had insisted they pick Denver over Spokane since Nana was more reluctant to leave her friends, but I had a feeling the minute Stephanie and Nash decided to start having kids, Nana would be leading the charge to move to Spokane.
You didn’t say no to Charmain Russo Addams.
Halfway through a conversation about the Chargers’ Calder Cup win, a blaring screech from the house dropped lead in my gut. The fire alarm.
Terror crashed over me.
“Gabe, I gotta go.” I hung up without waiting for an answer—he’d understand—and bolted across the yard to the back door.
Paisley stood in the middle of the kitchen, wielding the contents of a baking soda box into the oven, while Rosie Cotton howled in terror. She was terrified of the fire alarm noise. But Paisley was my priority.
I scanned her and the scene in one fell swoop. She was in one piece, and the fire was dying out. A tray of cookies maybe? But with the charring and smoke it was hard to tell. Reaching up, I disconnected the smoke detector.
Paisley shrieked and pressed a hand to her chest.
“What were you doing?” I demanded. Panic licked my chest, and blood pounded in my veins. Rapid-fire images of her falling, bleeding on the sidewalk flicked through my brain.
A muffled sob cut through my haze of intensity, and her shoulders hunched protectively. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
Breathe, Greyson. Control yourself. I sucked in a deep breath. This wasn’t life-threatening. She was fine. It was just cookies.
Flour streaked her cheeks, and her messy bun flopped in limp dejection. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said soothingly, quickly moving around the kitchen and living room area to open the windows to air out the house.
“It’s not okay!” Paisley huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fool of a Took,” she added under her breath.
I smiled to myself as I opened the windows to air out the house. The way she pinched her nose when frustrated was adorable, and something she’d picked up from me early in our relationship. If she wasn’t fiddling with her glasses, that is.
After I nudged Rosie outside to decompress, I returned to the kitchen and removed the smoldering pan of baked goods from the oven. Then I turned to Paisley, who still stood dejected, staring at the mounds of blackened cookies.
Cupping her shoulder with my hand, I nudged her chin up, but the tears had already overflowed. “Aw, Pais.” I tugged her into my arms, and she sobbed against my chest. “I’m not mad. You just scared me.”
“I just wanted to surprise you,” she hiccupped. “It’s your birthday, and—”
“You remembered?” I asked, hope flickering in my chest.
“No,” she whispered into my T-shirt, hands fisting the fabric at my back. “But the reminder popped up on my phone. And with the barbecue tonight, I wanted to do something special since you’ve done so much for me. I don’t even remember if I bought you a present. And I hate being a burden. I—”
“You’re not a burden,” I said roughly. “And you don’t have to pay me back for anything.”
“I just feel so useless.” Paisley sniffed. “You smell good.”
Oh, how I loved this woman’s mind. The way she flitted from one thing to another, even while it all made sense. And I loved the spirit of thoughtfulness behind her intentions.
“Thank you for the thought,” I said, stroking her hair. “Are you okay, though?”
“Besides having Mount Doom take up residence in my kitchen? Yeah, just peachy.”
I chuckled and gave her a little squeeze. She was small in my arms, a mix of delicate and feisty, fitting against me perfectly. Like she belonged. “I have an idea. How do you feel about a picnic lunch?”
Paisley tugged back and arched an eyebrow, eyes and nose red from crying. “You don’t strike me as a picnic man.”
“Like I said, love, I’ll be anything for you.
” Thanks to Gabe, I had a plan, solid advice, and friends I could count on.
Now I just needed to roll Operation Woo My Wife into action.
With all the finesse and planning that went into D-Day.
And if a picnic was the way to start, who was I to let my man card get in the way?
Besides, I needed to bring back her smile—craved it—and a picnic had been our official first date when we were dating.
Even if it had been an indoor picnic because it was the beginning of February.
Now hopefully my nerves would behave better today than they had back then.
“Okay.” She swiped her fingers over her cheeks. “Want me to pack something?”
I kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got it. You go wash up. Can you be ready in twenty?”
She nodded but hesitated halfway out of the kitchen. “Hey, Grey?” When I glanced at her, she added, her smile soft, “Happy birthday.”