I have to. I keep the jacket around my head, opening it just a little. I extend my hand, and he gives me the pill and water bottle. I toss it in my throat and chug the water. He lays me back down carefully before awkwardly buckling me into the seat.

I start counting backward from my starting point again, and I drift off, letting Grayson’s scent surround me and knowing that, when this is over, I’m going to have to bury myself to avoid the embarrassment.

Chapter 6

Jessica

The ache is back, but it’s nothing like it was before. I shift to the side, nestling into my pillow, which causes me to open my eyes, not knowing where I am.

When I do, it all comes back, the pain, the headache, Grayson carrying me. The light causes my eyes to slam back shut. Too fast and too much to process. If there is a God, he will make sure that Grayson Parkerson is not here. That he dropped me off, my sister came, and she’s the figure I swear I saw in the corner.

This time, I open my eyes slowly so as not to cause the headache to return with a vengeance. Once I’m acclimated a bit, I look around, avoiding the area where I know someone is, still praying it’s Winnie, but there is no God because Grayson is there.

Great.

“Hey,” I say, throat dry and hoarse.

He sits up. “Jess, hey, are you all right?”

The raging storm is now calm, just a few remnants, but nothing I can’t handle. I nod, swallowing as I try to sit up. “I’m better. I . . . I don’t remember the car or getting to the house.”

“We got here and about two hours ago, I carried you in, and you’ve been sleeping since.”

“You’ve been here for two hours?”

This is even worse than I thought.

He gets up and walks to my bed and sits at the edge. “I’ve never seen anything like that. You were in agony, Jess, and I couldn’t leave you.”

“It happens sometimes. It used to be daily, but it’s not anymore.”

“From the plane crash?”

I nod. “It’s part of the concussion injury.”

He releases a heavy sigh. “Daily?”

Those first few weeks were absolute hell. I couldn’t move without pain so intense it would drop me to the floor. “The doctors say they’ll become less frequent as I heal, but the brain works on its own time, and I can’t do anything to move the process along. S-some days—” I stutter and then catch myself. “Some days were so bad I didn’t get out of bed at all.”

“Does your family know?”

“Of course,” I say tentatively.

“Winnie must’ve told Stella, but . . .”

“But?”

He chuckles quietly. “I have a rule about not discussing women I love who left me.”