Give Me Grace (30 page)

I breathed in a lungful of sterile antiseptic air and knew where I was before my eyes opened. It was the smell of my past. Not the kind that brought good memories, but the shitty ones. The ones where my mother was so tired and sick it hurt just to look at her. Thos
e memories usually left me cold, but I didn’t feel it this time. Instead, it felt like my body was plugged into a heater. Warmth radiated its heavenly blanket all down my left side. I wanted to cocoon myself in it and not move.

I turned my head and the smell of antiseptic changed to one of musk and man. I opened my eyes. Casey was lying on his side next to me in a hospital bed, his head resting on the corner of my pillow. His eyes were closed and his long lashes rest
ed softly on his cheeks. My heart beat a little harder. Not only could I feel it, I could hear it. The monitor beside my bed echoed the sound through the room as I stared.

Brilliant red and purple bruises lined the left side of his face, across his brow
, and down to his jawline. Dark smudges circled his eyes.

“Back off, Casey
! I’m taking your Marjorie for a wild ride and you’re not invited!”

Oh no.

I pressed my lips together. What had I done?

“Grace! Look out!”

I hadn’t seen the car until it was too late. Had I gone through a red light? All I could remember was the blinding glare of headlights; the ear-splitting crunch of metal; and the sharp metallic taste of blood on my tongue. The memory made my stomach roll and my lungs scream for air.

I drew
a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. As though Casey sensed me watching him, his eyes opened, blinking twice before focusing on my face.

There was silence for a moment as we stared at each other wordlessly. Then
I lifted my hand and cupped his face, feeling the soft, scratch of his beard beneath my palm. I liked it. I liked this. Us. Together. No matter if we were on some romantic gondola ride along the Venice canals or here in a hospital bed. Waking up with Casey beside me felt right.

Huh.

Was I falling in love?

If I was
, then I was well and truly screwed but I couldn’t seem to care.

“Hey,” he whispered roughly.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like an idiot.” I went to shift slightly and realised my right arm was bound tight to my chest. Had I broken it?
Two
bass guitarists with broken arms? Mac was going to be pissed. I drew my hand from his face, and he took it in his, threading our fingers together.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking in
the graze on his left brow.

“I’m fine, just a few scrapes is all,” he replied as I stared
at all his bruises. The impact must have been tremendous to cause those. His car had been rammed clear across the intersection.

Oh God.

His car.

His car.

I closed my eyes and braced for Casey’s anger. I’d destroyed his pride and joy. His
baby.
Just a bit of scratched leather on the backseat and he’d been ready to put me in the ground, but this was so much worse. “Are you here to finish me off?”

“Finish you off?” he echoed.

“I broke your car. No, wait. I
stole
your car and
then
I broke it. I don’t know what comes after being dead, but whatever it is, that’s where your car is. And I sent it there,” I breathed, utterly horrified.

“Open your eyes, Grace.”

I cleared my throat. “No. I’m good.”

“Open.”

“Uh uh.” I squeezed them tighter. “I can’t.”

“Open.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Grace. Open your
eyes.”

His hand loosened on mine
and I panicked. Was he going to pry them open himself?

“Wait!”
There was only one way I could fix this. I squeezed his hand so he wouldn’t let go. My grip was feeble but he halted anyway, perhaps out of pity. “I’ll open my eyes.”

I peeked them open, directing my focus to his neck. It was
a nice neck—strong and tanned, his pulse visible in the thick veins. My gaze wandered downwards. There were bruises all along his collarbone too, right where his seat belt would have been. The bruises blurred and I realised it was because my eyes were brimming with tears.

“Grace.” My name on Casey’s lips was deep and low and rough. He tucked a finger under my chin, tilting my head until I couldn’t look anywhere else but in his eyes.

“I was thinking …” My voice sounded raspy so I cleared my throat. “Maybe we should start again.”

“
You want another do-over?” A slow, sexy smile overtook his face until his dimples popped. When the beep of my heart monitor increased in time with the flutters in my stomach, his look changed to one of amusement.

“Yes.
I think that would be best.”

“Okay.”
Casey shrugged and then winced, as though the slight movement hurt. “You start.”

I paused, unprepared. Casey
always
started our do-overs. “You sure you don’t want to start?”

“I’m sure.”

I paused for a moment, buying time as I tried to think about what I wanted to say. Casey watched me, waiting. It made me nervous. “Okay then. I’ll start, shall I?”

His response was a grin
.

I went back to staring at his neck. “My name’s Grace Paterson,” I began. “I currently play guitar in a band, I have the major hots for the guy who does our security
.” I stole a peek at Casey and saw his eyes flash heat. I had to draw a breath before I could continue, “and apparently in my spare time I like to trash cars. Expensive, restored types of the uh, muscled variety. With motherfucker tyres,” I finished. “And I’m really, really sorry.”

Casey’s brows rose
. “Motherfucker tyres?”

“T
yres so big they could mow down King Kong without losing traction.”

His body shook with silent laughter.

“It’s funny I trashed your car?”

“No
, it’s not funny at all, but you don’t need to apologise for it. You didn’t trash my car, Slim. Someone else did that.”

“They wouldn’t have if I hadn’t stolen it,” I pointed out
.

Casey shrugged and the response surprised me. Where was the anger?
The deep burning rage? The threats on my life? Perhaps he was in shock and it hadn’t sunk in yet. I went with that for now because his casual response didn’t make sense.

“Your turn,” I told him.

“Okay. My name’s Casey Daniels,” he began in his deep, rumbling voice. He reached up, trailing a finger slowly down my nose and along my brows as he spoke, his eyes following the path of his finger. The touch was sweet and whisper soft. “I do security for a girl in a band who makes me burn hotter than the sun. I’m also an asshole who makes mistakes that hurt the people I care about and for that I’m sorry.” He paused, his eyes sombre as his thumb trailed a path along my bottom lip. “And in my spare time I like restoring trashed cars … with motherfucker tyres,” he emphasised with a twitch of amusement.

I held my breath when Casey leaned in and brushed his lips softly
on mine. The touch was light, but it held just as much impact as the wild and passionate ones we shared earlier that night.

Casey drew back, running his eyes over my face
. “Are you in any pain?” His question was like a catalyst because everywhere suddenly began throbbing like a bass drum. He took a second to press the button on the side of my bed before taking my hand back in his threading our fingers together. “You took most of the impact, Grace. God, you’re lucky to be breathing right now. That car hit us so damn hard.”

I shivered because I’d never
been in a car crash before. It was the oddest sensation. Almost like it was happening to someone else. “How bad off am I?”

He grimaced.
“Lacerations cover pretty much the entire right side of your body. Busted ribs, bruised shoulder, concussion, and a hairline fracture in your right wrist. You broke your arm too, Grace. It was bad enough they had to do surgery to put it back together.”

I winced.
“That sounds bad.”

“Because it
is
bad.”

“
There’s no way I’ll be playing a guitar again anytime soon.” Being in the band was like having another family, except you experienced something amazing together that the outside world would never understand. I swallowed the disappointment at losing it. “I loved being up there on stage, being part of something special.”

“Hey.” Casey gave my hand a squeeze.
“You don’t have to leave the band. They can find a place for you.”

My heart leap
ed at the possibility before reality intruded with a rude slap, reminding me that sometimes life just wasn’t that easy. For a second my eyes stung with tears. I looked down at our joined hands so Casey wouldn’t see. “You know, I think they really would, but I can’t.”

“There’s no such thing as can’t. I’m sure I already told you that.”

“You did.” I peeked up at him from beneath my lashes, a smile forming on my lips. “Right before you defiled me all over the hood of your car.”

Casey’s lips twitched
in response. “That was fun. You should let me defile you again some time.”

“Well now that playing guitar is o
ut, my schedule is wide open.” I wasn’t sure how well two injured people would go having sex, but there was no way I wasn’t going to try.

“I’ll miss watching you play,”
Casey replied softly, looking into my eyes.

Casey always stood on the right of the stage wherever we played
. I figured it was the side he was most comfortable on. I always found myself gravitating towards him, shooting quick glances his way. His focus would always return to me, his eyes full of heat and something that looked a little like pride. “I’ll miss you watching me play,” I replied equally as softly.

Mac always stood off to the right side as well,
iPad in hand, taking charge while still keeping one eye on the stage watching us. Come to think of it, her eyes always had that streak of pride too. Then I realised something. “I’m going to have to tell Mac I can’t play. She’s going to have a stroke.”

“She already did.
” Casey’s lips twitched again. “You were too busy snoring and missed it.”

“I don’t snore.” I drew my face back from his, making sure he could see my frown. “
Why would you say such a thing?”

A light rap came at my hospital door, saving Casey from an explanation. It opened and in walked a doctor wearing green scrubs. A surgical mask hung casually around her neck and her tousled black hair was pulled into a knot at her nape. It didn’t detract from the incredible colour—a black so deep it reflected blue in the light as she clicked the door shut and walked to the end of my bed.

“Miss Paterson. You’re awake.”

“Grace, please,” I told her.

“And it appears Mr Daniels is too.” Dancing eyes of sea green turned Casey’s way as she went straight for my chart. Casey started to get up. “You can stay for a few minutes if you like. I was going to come visit you next anyway.”

“Thanks,” he replied and lay back down with a heavy breath.

“I’m Doctor Rowan James, Grace. I took care of you when they brought you in.” She flicked through my chart, scribbled something, set it back down and walked to the side of my bed. Flicking on a penlight, she asked how I was feeling while she checked my eyes.

“
Sore,” I mumbled, hissing at the glare of the light. I blinked a couple of times and refocused.

“That’s to be expected.” She tucked her penlight in her coat pocket and lifted the stethoscope from around her neck.
She ran through the list of my injuries while she checked me over, adding that someone would set my arm in a couple of days when the swelling went down.