I sit up straighter. “Oliver—”
“How long?” he interrupts.
“A few weeks. Since her birthday.”
“And is it just fun or something else?”
“I suppose that would depend on which of us you ask.”
He practically snarls at that. “I’m asking you, asshole. Grace is like Rina to me, except Rina has five brothers and two parents who would lay in traffic for her. Grace has me. I’m it.”
“Not anymore.”
Oliver shakes his head in dismay, running his hand over her hair and checking her over. “Grace? You waking up yet, honey?”
She doesn’t respond.
“How long does it typically take for her to come out of her postictal phase?”
“Depends. I haven’t seen her have a seizure since we were in medical school. That was a bad one. A night of too much drinking. After that, she sort of found her stride with them. Got herself into a routine and a regimen. What’s happened that that all changed?”
The accusation in his tone isn’t unfounded. My guilt has been riding me since the second I saw her on the floor.
“That’s my fault. She’s been working too many hours with not enough sleep to pick up the slack of another resident who was injured. That and I took her to see Wild Minds last night and we had a few drinks.”
“With Kap and Luca?”
Now he looks pissed and I’m not about to throw my brothers under the bus. Especially when they kept our secret, not something any of us enjoys doing. “No. We had floor seats.” Not a lie, but not the full truth either.
Oliver runs his hands over his face, blowing out a harsh breath through his fingers. “She’s living with you.”
“Oliver, grow the fuck up and get over it. Jesus Christ. Grace was in a shitty relationship with a shitty guy, and you hardly had a goddamn word to say about it. I am not a shitty guy. I know you know this. Hurting her isn’t an option for me.”
“Except she hasn’t had a seizure in four years and within weeks of moving in and hooking up with you, she has not one but two.”
It’s true and I have nothing to say. I’d rather die than let her go, but maybe being with me isn’t the healthiest or the safest option for her.
“It wasn’t Carter’s fault. It was mine,” Grace grumbles, her voice coarse like she’s been eating sand.
Oliver’s face drops to the gurney, resting on his side so he can stare straight into her eyes. “Hey beautiful. How’s your head?”
“Awesome. I forgot how much fun having a seizure can be.”
“You had two.”
“Even better. No wonder I feel like I was just hit by a truck.” Ever so slowly, she shifts on the gurney, trying to roll onto her back. Immediately I stand, helping her, staring into her eyes as they adjust to the overhead lights.
“Pupils are equal and reactive,” I say, running my hand along her cheek. “Welcome back. You scared the shit out of me.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, raising her arm in the air and surveying her IV before arching up to take a look at the pole, spotting the two bags of meds and fluids they’re giving her. With a huff, she sinks back down.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats. “It was mine. I wasn’t taking care of myself the way I should have. The way I know I need to. I drank a lot of caffeine in the last few days. Didn’t get a lot of sleep. Drank some alcohol on top of that. I was stupid. And careless. And this is the result.”
“You got lucky.”
She frowns at Oliver’s words. “I got lucky. The last thoughts to flow through my head were that I was grateful I was already in the hospital. Who’s covering my patients?”
My heart pinches at that. Status epilepticus is terrifying. Grace was here and the nurses were able to call for help immediately and respond with medications within seconds of her initial onset. If a person is home when it hits, sometimes they’re not so lucky.
“Dylan, the other residents, and Dr. Schwartz as well as a fellow,” I answer, but she doesn’t react beyond one simple nod of her head.
“Amelia and I have a big house, Grace. Come live with us.”
“Fuck you, Oliver,” I growl, ready to kill my brother where he sits.
“Fuck you back. If you had taken care of her the way—”
“Shut up!” Grace yells and then flinches, licking her cracked lips and lowering her tone. “Both of you. Just shut up. Damn. Why are boys so dumb? God. Do you think because I have vagina, I’m weak and incapable of making rational decisions about my life? What happened is because I didn’t do what I needed to do. I was arrogant. Something you two pricks should relate to. I drank too much caffeine. I got too little sleep. I had more alcohol than I should have. I knew better and I did it anyway. But as of this moment, I’m not moving out and I’m not living with you, Oliver. I will make my own choices and decide my own path and both of you will have to learn to adapt to it.”
I sink back down onto my chair, taking her hand and forcing her gaze to hit mine. “I don’t want you to move out. I want you to stay. With me.”
There. Heart on the line. Feelings served up in a Petri dish.
Grace sputters out a breath. “Get me discharged. Get this line out of my arm. The drugs are making me feel like I’m walking through sludge.” I nod absently. Everything inside of me hurting until her hand squeezes mine and she finishes that off with, “I want to go home.”
“Grace?”
She turns back to Oliver. “What do you want me to say? I need you. You’re my best friend. But I lied to you for weeks because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“Not well.”
“Obviously. I’m sorry.” She frowns, letting go of my hand and reaching for his. “I’m so sorry. But it’s new and we’re not… I just got out of my engagement to Tony… and I…”
“He seems to care about you.”
“I’m right here,” I groan only to be ignored.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss that,” she continues. “Mostly I’m scared about doing everything wrong the way I did with Tony. But for now, I’m okay.”
“If you’re ever not, you’ll come and stay with us?”
“Promise.”
“Shit, Grace.” Oliver crumples, his expression breaking. “You can’t do this to me again. I can’t handle you avoiding me. You’re my best fucking friend. I can stand anything you can throw at me, including your motherfucking seizures and you screwing around with my brother, but I can’t handle that.”
“I’ll never withhold from you again.”
Oliver stands up, adjusting his T-shirt that somehow is misaligned. He wipes at the emotion on his face, and I watch as my brother grapples with letting go of being the man in Grace’s life. Even when she had Tony, Oliver was still it. And likely, Oliver will always be her go-to person.
But it’s Oliver. And I’m okay with that.
“Carter, let it be known now that I will fucking destroy you if ever hurt my girl. She’s the B side to my A side, brother.”
“And she’s the A side to my B side.”