Page 146 of Not A Whisper

Daylight pours in through the metal blinds by the time things start to slow down. There’s a doctor standing at the foot of the bed, reading off a chart. I know it’s important and I try hard to focus despite the fog in my head.

“—toxicology came back and, well, let’s just say you and Mr. Nani are very lucky. The homemade concoction that was used to spike your drink was deadly,” she says grimly. “It seems Mr. Nani managed to expel most of it before it could do some real damage. He pretty much has a clean bill of health, minus the nausea he’s experiencing. You, however, still had a decent amount in your system. The shot we gave you earlier should dilute anything else and neutralize it. You may feel woozy for the next few hours, but otherwise, there’s no reason to believe you won’t make a full recovery.”

My head bobs in shallow nods.

“When can I expect my wife to be discharged?” Grant asks.

I glance over at him. Sitting on the bench seat by the window, which also acts as a narrow twin bed for a guest staying the night, Grant has been here the entire time—never once leaving my side. It’s clear he’s tired too. There are shadows under his eyes, and he hasn’t regained the color in his face. Yet, despite the long and harrowing night, his focus remains sharp, he’s involved with every conversation, and he’s been adamant about sticking around through every procedure.

“Well, your wife has what we call superficial frostbite on some of her fingers and toes. With her having been submerged in sitting water, her open wounds were exposed to dirty stagnant water, and now this, her immune system has beencompromised. We’d like to give her a shot of antibiotics and get her internal temperature to a safer level before we think about a discharge. That could take a few hours since we have to wait for the first shot to take full effect.”

I glance down at my bandaged hands. Each of my fingers have been wrapped in white gauze and taped up tight. My toes, out of sight under the blanket, look the same way. My beautiful engagement ring is with Grant. I had him hold it while I was carted away to be looked after. Oddly enough, I feel strangely bereft without it.

“Alright, sounds good,” Grant says, all business. “Thank you, doctor.”

“If you’d like, Mr. Gipson, you can go home and we can call you when?—”

“I’ll leave when my wife leaves.” Grant’s clipped response causes both me and my doctor to flinch. “And please, just call me Grant.”

She nods, “Of course. Well, if you need anything Mrs. Wilson-Gipson, don’t be afraid to push the call button for the nurse.”

With that, she leaves us. For the first time in hours, we’re alone. I sag back in my bed, my eyelids drooping.

“I’m going to touch base with Trip and Jay to let them know that you and I will be here for a while longer. Maybe I can get them to go home and get some sleep.” Grant says, getting to his feet. “Then I’ll see about getting us some breakfast. Hospital food is the worst, but I’m sure I can get us something better.”

He’s going to get breakfast. For me. Grant Gipson, Groveton’s star running back, a Groveton prodigy, Grovetonroyalty, is getting me breakfast. My brows furrow at the oddity of all this.

“What is it?”

I lift my head, peeling my attention off my hands, to find Grant watching me from the foot of my bed. His gaze is so intense, it’s unnerving. Those auburn eyes radiate deep and intense, unspoken emotions. We haven’t gotten to talk about what transpired or how he feels about killing his father. I suppose that will have to wait.

“It's nothing.”

“Bullshit. What are you thinking, dollface?” He skirts around the hospital bed to come up to my side.

I lick my lips, contemplating how to explain to him how weird this all is. Grant doesn’t push. He simply waits with an extraordinary amount of patience.

“It’s just strange, being taken care of,” I admit, looking away from him. My gaze lands on the soft indent he’d made on the couch/bed cushion. “Usually it’s me asking the questions, getting up to get something that will help… I did it for Pianna all the time. And I’ve been doing it for myself my whole life.” With a sigh, I look back at Grant. “It's odd giving the reins to someone else.”

Grant rolls his eyes, a half-smile pulling at his mouth. “Yeah, well, get used to it.”

“Why? Because you already do this for Jason and Trip when they need you so what’s one more person?”

The words are out of my mouth before I think them through, but it doesn’t make them any less true. He killed tonight, or rather last night, for them, forus. Even before he committed to ending Garry, everything Grant did was to make sure the people around him remained out of reach or kept from Garry’s maliciousness. He may not go about it the right way at times, but everything Grant does, it’s for others. Never himself.

There’s a warm, rolling thick and sticky feeling stretching across my chest, stemming from my heart. The more I notice it,the more I realize that it’s not an alien feeling. It's been here a while.

It’s the reason I sought out Grant after his last football game. And it’s the reason I’ve put in long hours to pull together a vision board all three guys could work from. It’s why I’m ok with Grant taking care of me now.

The smirk on Grant’s face disappears. His brows come together, and his arms cross over his chest as he considers his response. After a few moments of silence, he nods.

“I do it for the people I love, dollface.” He shrugs before giving me a half-smile while his eyes smolder. “I’ll doanythingfor the people who make that exclusive list.”

He might as well have punched me in the gut or thrown me down into another freezing cold well with how quickly the air in my lungs evaporates. My mouth pops open. In my chest, my heart pauses—taking a moment to process Grant’s confession—before doing a backflip then a front one. I suck in a shaky breath to stop my head from spinning.

When it stops, I give him a bright, albeit tired, smile. “It’s nice to have someone looking out for me, so thank you.”

With a long and heavy sigh, Grant sits on the edge of the hospital bed. “Like I said, get used to it.”

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