I awaken with a scream stuck in my throat as I try in vain to claw my way out of the darkness enveloping me. But despite every effort, the blackness remains, even when I pat my eyes to ensure they’re actually open.
When I realize they are, the memory of the crash floods back into my brain—the sudden jerk of the vehicle, followed by a sickening crack as my car tumbled end over end.
Then it all went black.
Permanently, it seems.
Voices edge closer, some of the medical staff reassuring me I’m safe, but I know that’s a load of garbage.
I’m not safe. I’m blind. For how long, I don’t know.
When I turn my head, I notice a slight demarcation between light and dark. That must be the window—another sunny Charlotte day. Beyond that graduated blur, there’s nothing.
I’m no quitter, but this is one hell of a daunting challenge. This dark reality makes the Monaco Grand Prix look like a walk in the park.
A hand squeezes my shoulder, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you, Mr. Gray. My name is Nicole and I’ll be your nurse today. Are you hungry? I have a breakfast tray for you.”
I manage a nod, although I learned from the many meals eaten by my father’s bedside that hospital food isn’t winning any gourmet awards. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and for the first time since I can remember, I’m very much a beggar.
The nurse raises the head of my bed as I shift on the mattress, attempting to locate a comfortable spot.
No such luck.
With a sigh, I squint, struggling to identify anything when she places the food on my bedside table. But it’s no use. I’m staring into a void, an endless black sea. Doesn’t help that the aroma wafting off the tray is none too appetizing.
“I’ll send in someone to help you,” she offers, shattering my last vestiges of confidence with her words.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was Ryder Gray, king of F1 racing, with legions of fans clamoring for a moment of my time. Now, I’m being treated like a toddler who can’t feed myself.
“I’ll manage,” I grit out.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”
“I said, I’ll manage.” I sense her hesitation about leaving me, certain I’m incapable of performing this mundane task. My temper flares at the knowledge. “Can you leave me alone?”
“Here’s the call bell, should you need us.” She presses the cord into my hand before leaving me with my first task of the day.
I’ve been feeding myself for decades.
How hard can it be?
Five minutes later, as I’m covered in orange juice and scrambled eggs, I have my answer. Tossing down my fork in disgust, I give up, having only managed to get two bites of food to my mouth in the melee.
“Hey,” a familiar voice sounds out, “let me help.”
Gigi. Just the sound of her voice soothes my frazzled nerves, even if I’m embarrassed as hell for her to see me in this state. “I told them I could do it.”
“You sure showed them.” I can hear her smirk, but I’m not in the mood for levity. Her hands pull away the bedside table and I feel her collecting the pieces of food I’ve tossed around my bed.
Mortification at its finest.
“That’s better. I’ll see if we can’t get you a shower after breakfast.” She dabs my face with a napkin, and I’m torn between laughing and screaming.
Is this what my life has become?
“I can’t wait to see how I do in the shower.”
“I’ll be right there with you. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m pretty fucking far from fine, Greer.” She doesn’t deserve my anger, but my emotions are vacillating wildly with one constant—abject terror.
The man who’s never known fear is absolutely terrified.
My wife seems undeterred by my emotional wall. Typical Greer. “It will take time, but you are going to be fine. Besides, hospital food isn’t the cure for what ails you. So, I brought you something better. A spinach and tomato omelet, just the way you like it.”
“Might as well toss it on me, like my first breakfast.”
“I have a better idea.” The mattress sinks next to me, only a moment before my nostrils are assuaged by two scents, both indelibly better than hospital chow. One is the subtle undertone of gourmet food. The other? The spicy amber scent Gigi wears.
The one that drives me wild in the best possible way.
“Open,” she demands, and the mental image of my wife riding my cock slips away, replaced by the reality that she’s not fucking me. She’s feeding me.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Your choice. You can keep going the way you were and waste three-quarters of this ridiculously expensive omelet, I can straddle your waist and force-feed you, or you can open your mouth and cooperate.”
“Thanks, Nurse Ratched,” I mutter, opening my mouth and releasing a groan when the flavors mingle on my tongue. “This is so much better than that hospital crap.”
Ten minutes later, my belly is full and my mind calm. Calmer, anyway. Greer does that for me, and she’s the only one who can.
“Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
Her lips dust across my cheek, and I’m tempted to request that she keep moving down. I may be blind, but I still have needs.
I need her in every possible way.
“I’m going to speak with the staff about getting you a shower. You still have dried blood on you from the crash. I’m also fairly certain there will be a line of nurses eager to assist with that task.”
“I’ve got a nurse already.”
“Damn straight.” Her footsteps fade away and I fall back against the pillow, turning my face toward the only light in my world.
Well, the only light besides Greer.
She returns a few minutes later, triumphant in her quest, and within an hour, I’m feeling almost human again.
Emphasis on almost.
The blindness is a bitch. The myriad of scrapes and bruises? A bonus in this shit show.
Gigi took her time with me in the shower, her hands so gentle as they washed away the debris of the day before. Still, she seems to be holding back her affections, and I need them now more than ever.
I’m likely paranoid. It’s less than twenty-four hours since I was involved in a massive wreck. Per the doctors, I’m lucky to be alive. Add in the fact that I can’t see and my entire world is upside down.
Besides, she’s here. That’s all that matters. Over the top affections will come, all in good time.
“Feel better?” Greer asks, perching next to me in the bed. Thankfully, they changed the sheets while I was in the shower. The only thing worse than hospital food? Cold hospital food stuck to your bare ass. Trust me on this one.
Raising my hand in the direction of her voice, I sigh when her fingers close around it. “What am I going to do, Gigi?”
“Get better so you can go home.”
“What then? I can’t feed myself. How am I supposed to do this?”
“I told you. I’m here. I’ll take care of you. Besides, I’m a nurse, so it’s a lucky coincidence.”
“When I mentioned that you’re a sexy nurse, this is not what I had in mind.”
Greer giggles, leaning over to steal a kiss. Hey, at least this time it’s on the mouth. But before my hand can tangle in her dark locks, she pulls back, giving my hand an awkward pat.
What the fuck?
“Your doctor is here,” Gigi murmurs. “Good morning, Dr. Marsh.”
Please let him have some positive news. “Hey Doc, what’s the good word?”
“Are you okay with me speaking in front of your wife?”
“Obviously. She can translate what you’re saying into English.”
He chuckles, but I detect something else in his voice—hesitation.
Shit.
“The good news is that there doesn’t appear to be any bleeds or swelling in the brain, beyond the optic nerve. That being said, I had hoped the steroids we started last night would relieve some of the pressure, but it’s still too early to tell.”
“Tell what?”
“How much vision you can expect to regain.”
“I can detect brightness this morning.” My words fly like bullets from my mouth as I flounder to escape the sinking feeling surrounding me.
“That’s a step in the right direction, and I believe there’s a good chance you’ll regain more vision in the coming days or weeks.”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off as my world crumbles around me. “I need all my vision back.”
“One step at a time, Mr. Gray. At this point, we’re cautiously optimistic that you should regain partial vision. What that means exactly, we can’t be sure. But we will continue the steroids while observing you for the next couple of days. Precautionary measure. Since you’re stable, you’ll be moved to a regular room, where you can begin working with occupational therapy.”
“What the hell does that mean?” These terms fly at me, but I’m unable to wrap my mind around anything beyond the idea that this dark hell might last forever.
“The occupational therapist has special training to help people learn to navigate—”
“Without sight.” I spit out the words, hating the taste of them. Hating the sound of them even more. “I can’t live without my eyes, doctor. We need to do more.”
“They’re doing everything they can.” Greer strokes my forearm, but I shake her off. The last thing I need is her coddling.
“No, they aren’t, or I’d have my sight back. There has to be more we can do.”
Dr. Marsh clears his throat, no doubt aggravated by my staunch stance. “Surgical intervention is an option, but not one we take lightly, Mr. Gray. I don’t think you’re a good candidate for it, regardless.”
My heart pounds as his words sink in. I can’t wrap my mind around what they mean for my career, my life, and my future. “I can’t race if I can’t see. I don’t want to live if I can’t race.”
A soft cry escapes Greer’s lips as she wraps her arms around me. But I don’t need pity. What I need is a damn cure. “If this is about money, I have plenty. I’ll pay for whatever experimental treatment you have in your bag of tricks.”
“I wish money were the only obstacle, but it’s not that simple, Mr. Gray. Let me worry about your treatment plan. You need to focus on rest and recovery. The stress isn’t helping your situation.”
Now the bastard tells me.
Dr. Marsh continues on a few minutes more, but I’ve tuned out. I’m tired of half-truths and unknowns.
The tension is palpable in the room after the doctor leaves, my anger rising with each passing minute.
“Do you want to listen to some music? I can annoy you with Elvis tunes.”
I know she’s trying, but every cheery word out of Greer’s mouth only makes me angrier. “I want you to leave.”
“Ryder, I know this is scary, but you need to stay positive. It’s so important.”
With that, my anger breaks free of its chains as I hurl my call button off the bed. “Am I bothering you with my negativity, Greer? Putting a crimp in your day?” Punching the side rail, I release a string of obscenities. “I don’t want to live like this.”
“Please don’t say that. You could have died yesterday.”
“If this is what my life looks like now, I wish I had.”
Her hands wrap around mine, but it does nothing to soothe the beast raging inside me, and her muffled sobs only increase my angst. I don’t have the bandwidth to take on Greer’s pain.
I have enough of my own.
“Get out, Greer. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. This is not what you signed up for.”
“I’m not leaving you, Ryder. I told you that yesterday and I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.”
“Get out,” I bellow, my voice sounding off the walls. Within moments, footsteps enter the room. No doubt it’s the nursing staff, wondering what the hell is transpiring. “Leave me alone, Greer. I beg of you.” It’s all I can manage, my words catching in my throat as I turn my face toward the wall.
I hold back the agony until the door closes and I have my wish.
I’m alone with the darkness. My own impenetrable fortress of solitude.
I awaken a few hours later. At least that’s my guess by the lack of light surrounding me. It must be evening, or close to it. Through my hazy memories, I recall being moved to a different room because I was stable, as the doctor termed it. After the emotional breakdown earlier today, that might not be the most appropriate term.
At least I feel a bit better, although it might be the lingering effects of the sedative. Yep, I’m that guy.
Shifting in the bed, I fumble for the call bell. I need to speak with Greer, apologize for biting her head off earlier. She’s only trying to help, and I know this is hell for her, too. If I’m not careful, she’ll race out of my life permanently.
I’d hate that more than the blindness.
“May I help you, Mr. Gray?” a voice asks through the call system.
“Can you see if my wife is around, please?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“I guess I’m not good enough anymore.”
My head jerks at the unexpected female voice to my right. “Mandi?”
My first thought? Why the hell is she here? The second? How different her voice is from Greer’s. My wife’s voice washes over me like the warm Caribbean ocean—enticing and beckoning. Mandi’s voice slices through my thoughts like a cheese grater.
Heels clack across the floor, and I flinch when her hand strokes my scalp. “You didn’t think I could leave here without checking on you, did you?”
Leaning away from her touch, I grimace. What I think is she’s intent on making waves, particularly after our chat the other night. Let’s just say Mandi was none too thrilled to learn how invested I am in my marriage or how much I adore my wife.
I thought she got the hint.
I thought wrong.
“I’m doing swell, as you can tell by the hospital bed I’m in.” With each and every word, my volume increases, and I stop myself, not wanting a repeat of earlier. At this rate, they’ll throw my ass in the loony bin before the end of the day.
“I’m only trying to help, Ryder. You don’t need to be so hateful.”
“Everyone is trying to help,” I mutter, releasing a heated sigh. “I’m sorry for my temper. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”
“I know, and I feel awful for you. I wish I could make it better, make you better, but I can’t handle this situation.”
A bark of laughter flies from my mouth. She’s joking, right? What the hell does she have to handle? Time to break out the big guns and kill her with sarcasm. “Consider yourself lucky we broke up. Otherwise, you’d be stuck in this situation.”
I expect her to retort with a biting comment, but instead, she dusts a kiss across my forehead. “Maybe when you’re all better, we can revisit the idea of reconciliation. The whole shebang—marriage, kids.”
Once again, I jerk my head from her grasp, wishing she would grant me some space. I have two choices, continuing this inane discussion or smile and nod my agreement as I usher her out the door. “Good to know.”
“I’ll be in Europe for the next couple of weeks, doing that promotional tour, but I’ll call you. Check on your progress.”
Biting my tongue to keep from biting her head off, I offer a stiff jerk of my chin. “Have fun.”
“Bye, Ryder,” Mandi coos, pressing her mouth against mine in an unwarranted and unwelcome advance. Mandi’s heels click across the room but pause. “Hello, Greer.”
My heart sinks, wondering what my poor wife heard, or worse, what she witnessed. “Gigi?”
It’s the longest seconds of my life, waiting with outstretched hand until I feel Gigi’s warm fingers enclose mine. Then I can breathe again.
“I’m here, Ryder. Mandi has gone.” Although Greer’s voice is even, there’s a lack of feeling to her words, as if she’s holding back all emotion.
“I wasn’t expecting her. She surprised me.”
“That makes two of us.”
Okay, my wife is definitely not happy. Time to make amends. “I’m sorry you had to see Mandi. I know how it looks—”
“Doesn’t concern me,” she grinds out, her voice low. “What concerns me is you getting well. That’s what I’m here for, considering she’s too busy.”
The last part of her statement is whispered, barely audible, but I hear every word. My hearing is highly acute, a damn miracle after all my years of racing. And those words make my entire body tense. “Are you angry? I’m sorry for before. I shouldn’t have yelled at you—”
Greer fluffs my pillow but makes no move to touch me further. “It’s fine. You have a ton to process. Besides, do you honestly think you’re the first patient to yell at me?”
Now my back is really up. I’m her husband, not her patient. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you can’t scare me off. I told you that before.”
But that isn’t what she means. I feel the emotion pulsating behind her calm facade, as palpable as a heartbeat. “Gigi—”
Once again, she cuts me off. “There’s a cafe across the street. I thought I’d grab us some dinner. Does that sound good?”
A knock sounds at the door, only a moment before a familiar voice breaks into my and Greer’s moment. “Hi, I dropped by for a visit. Am I interrupting anything?”
Yes, Colton, you actually are.
But my wife is all too happy to dead our conversation. “Hi, Colton. I’m heading to the cafe for some food. Would you like anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.” The chair legs scrape against the floor as Colton plops down by my bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Blind as a fucking bat.”
“Greer said they’re considering upping your medication to see if there’s any effect. I like her, Ryder. Hold on to her.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter, my mind focused on my earlier conversation with Greer. It’s so tricky to distinguish emotions when I’ve always relied on visual cues. “She’s been distant since the accident. Likely rethinking her decision to marry me.”
“That’s a load of bullshit. Greer isn’t the type to cut and run. I can see it in her face. She’ll roll up her sleeves and get down in the mud with you.”
Despite Colton’s reassurances, I’m not so certain. Greer is highly affectionate, as evidenced by our ridiculous displays of loved-up PDA in Barbados, but since her arrival in Charlotte, she’s held me at arm’s length.
Stop with the paranoia, Ryder. She’s here, and that’s all that matters.
Time to change the topic. Besides, I have questions, and Colton may have the answers I seek. “Any leads in the investigation? Do we know what the fuck happened out there?”
The silence rings out like a church bell, save for the tapping of Colton’s foot against the linoleum. I know the man well enough to pick up on the agitation. “Man, I don’t want to have this conversation. Greer asked me to wait—”
“What?” I interrupt, sitting up in the bed. “What the hell are you talking about? What do you know? What does Greer know?”
The chair grates against the floor, and I can tell by the change in volume that Colton is now pacing the room. Wonderful.
“Colton, don’t you dare hide information from me. This is my career on the line. My life.”
“Shit,” Colton swears, falling down into the chair again. “I suspended the pit crew.”
What the hell? The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I mutter one word. “Why?”
“It seems certain members of the pit crew decided it would be a good idea to go out partying the night before the race. A few of them tested positive for cocaine and alcohol. They all swore it wasn’t a factor, and they were on their game, but I don’t give a crap what excuses they have, considering my star driver is now blind because of an accident on their watch.”
I grab my head with my hands, trying to make sense of the situation. Why the hell would they do this? Why take this chance? Why risk my life? “Was Greg with them?”
“He was, although he tested clean.”
“Doesn’t matter. He broke the damn rules and risked my life in the process.”
“Greg says he was there to usher everyone back to their rooms. Claims he gave them all hell, but as the new guy, they weren’t listening to him. I’m sorry, Ryder. Greer wanted me to wait to tell you because she worried the stress would make your condition worse.”
My blood boils in my veins as the situation becomes clear. I might be a blind bastard, but I’m not a dumb one. Even I can see what’s happening here. “You fired everyone?”
“They’re suspended, but they know they won’t be asked back. I also let them know that there’s a good chance of a lawsuit.”
“Good. Make sure their lives are as fucked as mine,” I seethe, jerking my arm away when Colton squeezes my shoulder. “And as for my wife,” I spit out the words, “you can send her back in. I want to speak to her. Alone.”
“Don’t be angry at Greer. She was only trying to protect you.”
“Not hardly. She’s protecting Greg. Do me a favor? Open that drawer and take out the jewelry box.”
Colton clears his throat but obliges my request. “Is this her ring?”
With a final lock, my emotional wall cements. “Not anymore. Hold on to that until I can sell it. Please send Greer in.”
“Ryder, I know you’re mad, but—”
“Send. Her. In.”
“I love you, man. You know that, right? Greer loves you, too.” Another squeeze of my shoulder, a show of brotherly camaraderie, but I say nothing.
I’m saving my energy and my anger for my wife.
A delicious aroma fills my nostrils, but I’m like a bull in front of a red flag—furious and ready to charge the moment Greer enters the room.
“I got you a pastrami sandwich. You always liked those when we were kids.”
“Put it down and leave.”
“What? Don’t you want dinner?”
“What I want, is you gone. You think you’re so clever, don’t you Greer? Even got me to marry you without a prenup. Smart move. I should have known you were just like the rest of them.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Her voice is a strangled whisper, the emotion evident. “I don’t want your money, Ryder. I never did.”
“Why are you really here?” I hold up my hand, cutting her off before she can answer. “Don’t lie, either. Colton told me all about your bastard brother and the rest of the pit crew trying to kill me. He also mentioned how you begged him to stay silent on the matter. He claims you were trying to protect me—”
“I was. I knew the stress would be detrimental to your healing.”
“But lies and false sympathy were going to help? That’s all this is, right?” I motion blindly around the room. “That’s why you’re here, doting on me, isn’t it? Trying to save your brother from the ramifications he damn well deserves? Well, you can take your sweet nurse act and shove it up your ass. I want you gone. We’re done.”
Her fingers close around my hand, but I jerk away as if I’ve been burned. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought it would be better if we waited until you were better. But that’s not why I’m here, Ryder. I love you and I want to help you, but you keep shutting me out.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have lied to me. Now, you’re shut out for good. Get out.”
Her sobs are like bullets, but my anger shields me from her emotional onslaught. All I can feel, all I can process, is the bottomless fury that the love I thought I found is nothing more than a lie. An act of pity for a broken man and a last-ditch effort to protect her family.
Fuck pity and fuck Greer. I’ll be damned if I become a charity case.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Greer manages between sniffles. “I’ll leave your food here.”
The bag crinkles next to me, but I reach for it, tossing it across the room. “Get out, and don’t ever come back.”
After what seems forever, I hear the door close.
She’s gone.
One down, one to go.
Paging the nurse, I request three things—clean up the food now littering the floor, ban Greer from stepping onto the unit, and dial Greg’s number.
Then I request privacy, although I’m certain to get loud enough for patients in the next unit to hear.
“Hey brother, how are you?”
“Blind, thanks to you and my pathetic excuse for a pit crew. Was it worth it? Those fucking beers you can’t live without? Were they worth ruining my life?”
“I didn’t drink that night, Ryder. I swear. My test was clean.”
“There hasn’t been a day when you’ve said no to alcohol.”
Greg is silent for a few beats, and the darkness threatens to suffocate me. “You’re right. I have a problem, and your accident made me realize I need to deal with it. I signed myself into rehab and I leave in the morning, but I swear on my life, I was stone-cold sober during the race.”
“What you are is jealous. You couldn’t stand it. I made it and you didn’t.”
I expect him to fly off the handle, but he’s calm. Achingly calm. “I am jealous, but I would never—never—put you in danger. I’ve always been proud of you and I hate that this happened. I feel responsible—”
“You are responsible,” I bellow, my fist making contact with the side rail. “Colton told me he put the crew on indefinite suspension. You need to leave my house immediately. I never want to speak to you again.”
Ending the call, I chuck my phone across the room, the agony of silence now an unbearable roar.
I’m alone in the dark and the thoughts swirl, blacker by the second. I believed in Greer. I believed in her love. The one woman I thought would save me, the woman I thought would love me for a lifetime, never loved me at all.
Oh, she would have stayed, but only out of a sense of obligation to tend to me since her brother had broken me. That’s the way Greer is, always cleaning up Greg’s messes.
Now, I’m just another mess.
That explains her lack of affection since my accident. The emotional distance. Greer no longer wants me, but she’ll play the part, knowing how bad it would look if she left me at my lowest.
I saved her the trouble. I kicked her out before she could leave.
Before she did leave.
