Page 62 of Really Truly Yours

His second mumble is completely unintelligible.

“What’s that?” The armrest cuts into my ribcage as I get close enough to not disturb the sleeping patient.

Warm breath ruffles my hair. “Call me Gray.”

Off-topic. I throw back the blanket.

His fingers wisp around my wrist. “Go to sleep, Sydnee.”

“But—”

Fake snores fill the room.

“Fine.” I stick my feet to the tile and grip the armrests, shifting my body weight, hard. The chair doesn’t budge.

Possibly because a giant hand has joined mine on the rest. “Where you going?”

Where does he think? This whole dark-room, inches-apart thing doesn’t work for me.

His thumb strokes along the vein on the inside of my wrist. “Sleep, Sydnee Lou.” His closed eyes and gravely voice suggest he’s already halfway there.

∞∞∞

The sky dumps rain by the bucketsful.

I’ve been staring at the water streaming down the window behind Grayson’s head for roughly the last hour. The man hasn’t stirred, including when Carly came by.

Gray.

If he says so.

I’m a funny girl, thinking I’d be able to sleep in a chair next to all-star, championship-winning Grayson Smith. His presence strains the boundaries of my insignificant world.

“Hey.”

Jolted, I find sleepy eyes watching me. Lightning illuminates an enticingly shadowed jaw. My fingernails curl into my palms. “Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

I huddle, fisting the blanket under my chin and hushing my voice. “The thunder woke me up.”

“Thunder?”

“Lots of it. You’ve been dead to the world.”

“I’m usually a pretty light sleeper.” A yawn garbles his words. Gray sits straight, catching the pillow his head had pinned to the wall before it makes it to the floor.

He leans his elbows onto his knees, the repositioning bringing his face into range for midnight whispers. He slants his head toward the bed. “He doesn’t seem to be having trouble.”

I giggle, keeping volume to a minimum. “Sleep is not one of Donny’s problems. A house two doors down caught fire one night. A whole slew of emergency vehicles came, and he never heard a thing.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right?”

Gray chuckles softly. He turns serious as he links his hands between his knees. “Tell me how you and Donny got to be so close.”

In this rearranged position, I sniff wispy remnants of yesterday’s cologne. At best, I probably smell like generic laundry detergent.