Page 12 of Grant’s Blaze

The line was quiet for a few beats, but I could tell someone was there. Finally, a voice broke the still air. And then broke my heart wide open.

“Blaze.”

It was all he said. But it was all he needed to say. His voice was deep and husky, like he’d just woken up.

“Grant? Is…it really you?”

“Last time I checked,” he answered with a chuckle.

I shot to my feet. My free hand fluttered to my throat and then back down again.

“Are you…laughing about this?”

Because if that were the case, I was truly going to kick his ass. All right, so it would be a slight pleasure because his ass belonged in its own glass case in the world’s finest art museum, but I’d still kick that fine thing to the Canadian border and back.

As if he’d heard that whole diatribe, he dialed back the mirth. “Only because it feels so good to hear your voice, baby,” he said softly.

I gulped hard. Then even harder. It was nearly impossible, considering every drop of saliva in my mouth had been sucked dry by shock and elation.

I needed to stay calm. I wouldn’t be useful to either one of us if I got hysterical. But my voice didn’t get the memo on that sentiment yet. “Where are you? Do you need me to come for you? Can I see you?” I was on my feet, scurrying around the house, looking for things. Not sure what things, exactly. But things.

He chuckled again, and I decided to just stop and…enjoy it. God, it was so good to hear that sound again. His laugh was so much like him. Deep and meaningful and robust. I wanted to sob, thinking of how many times I dreaded never hearing it again.

But I didn’t. Instead, I decided to try sitting down. Not for long. Just for a moment, to absorb the enormity of what was happening. That he was really back. Truly home and safely away from the monsters who’d abducted him.

Well, the best-laid plans…

In my dumbstruck haze, I misjudged the distance between my backside and the sofa cushion. I skimmed past the edge, landing with a brutal thud on the floor. I also split the rear seam of my jeans, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to listen to his voice and know he was okay. Tears ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, leaving darker polka dots on the denim covering my thighs.

“Grant? Are you still there?” I worried aloud.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here.”

“Where’s here? Can I see you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor? A lot of them do tele-med stuff now, you know?”

At last, I comprehended how my nervous energy had me rambling like an idiot. I forced myself to take a breath. On the exhale, I whispered, “I’m so sorry. It’s just that…my God, I’ve been so worried. So scared. I wondered if I’d ever hear your voice again.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Blaze. Every single thing about you. Don’t apologize, okay?” He was equally soft spoken, and I missed the self-assured dominant man I loved so much.

Whoa. Wait a second.

That thought wasn’t the sole cause of my concern. It was a pile-up of other factors. The staccato edges of his breaths. The drag of his long pause, filled only by rough scuffs that filled me with nervous energy. A helplessness that I abhorred.

So I accommodated by going for my comfort zone. Grabbing the damn bull by the horns.

“I’m coming to you. Tell me where you are so I can put it in my nav.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “About that…”

“What do you mean ‘about that’?” I was trying to keep my tone even, but I was barreling toward becoming the bull instead of just wrestling it. Already, I didn’t like where this was headed. Not one bit.

“I’m so exhausted, so I’m just going to sleep the rest of the day,” he stated. “It’s really what I need. And then we’ll see how tomorrow shapes up…”

“How it ‘shapes up’?” I flung back. “Wait. And what do you mean, tomorrow? Grant—”

“But I’ll call you later if I end up waking up again, okay?”

“No,” I blurted once it seemed like he was done with the hurried—and rehearsed—brush-off speech. “That’s not okay. Grant—”