“You should be focused on riding, but you’re in here, what?”
“Tate, I swear. Get out,” he snaps.
Tate is mere steps from us when Gray yanks his hand from my pants, sucking each of his fingers into his mouth. His damp fingers lazily shoving my shirt back into the waistband of my scrubs with a wink, as if to sayour little secret.
Holy mother of all things… he just licked the fingers he had inside me clean. With his fucking brother right there.
A hand comes down on Gray’s shoulder, partially turning him to face his brother. “You can never take anything seriously, can you? You could die out there, but you’re in here trying to get your dick wet!”
Gray jumps off the table, the syringe I’d prepared for him skittering across the floor.
“You don’t know shit. Why are you even here?”
The fuming anger that seemed to propel Tate forward burns out. His eyes boring into his brothers with an emotion I can’t quite place. “To check on you before you ride.”
“Well, don’t. I’m good.”
The corners of Tate’s mouth turn down into a deep frown. His brow sinking low in defeat. “You could listen to me just once.”
“Why? Because you went pro. Newsflash: you retired, big brother. You couldn’t just let me have this, could you?”
“Gray, I—”
Stepping between the two men, a hand to each of their chests, I’ve seen enough. It was clear there was tension between them, but whatever the fuck this is is stupid. “Tate, unless you need medical care, you need to leave.”
His eyes narrow on me, but he turns on his heel, stomping out of the med room before slamming the door behind him.
Turning my back to Gray, my hands brace against the next table. Deep breaths funnel in through my nostrils, only to drift back out through the same openings. The two of them are much worse than I expected. Children in men’s bodies. Balls of pent up frustration over years of throwing barbs instead of communicating like fucking adults.
Gray’s whispered words are the only thing that makes me turn back around. “Thank you.”
Gratitude shines there in his eyes. Something sad and lonely accompanying it. I don’t know much about their history, but judging from what Gray told me last night, no one ever seems to be on his side. It’s always him against Tate and the world.
Gingerly taking his face between my palms, I force his gaze to me. “I didn’t do anything, but let’s get this hand squared away.”
Turning away to prep another injection, I hear Gray rustling around behind me before sitting on the table again.
Taking his hand in mine, he’s trembling. I won’t call it out or ask why. The interaction with his brother shook him up, and it’s tugging at my heartstrings. Sure, Gray could probably use a little growing up; we all could, but to see the devastation he’s wearing so plainly hits hard. Too hard.
A reminder that I can’t even recall the last time I spoke to my parents or my brothers. The term “irreconcilable differences” applies to more than just divorcees.
Something tells me Gray doesn’t want to fight with Tate. Maybe he just needs a push to find some middle ground. It wouldn’t hurt if they didn’t spit words with venom while they’re at it.
“This is going to pinch a little.”
“I can take it.”
I inject him in two places. Not once does he flinch or make a sound.
“Done.”
“Not even close, River.” Gray pulls me between his legs again, a soft brush of his lips against mine. “You just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Chapter 9
Grayson
Ihatehospitals.Nope,itgoes beyond that. Add in all medical facilities of any type.
