He’d walked out on her and left her alone in their bed. Naked. Wearing his ring. He’d promised her forever and then he’d gone off to be with someone who offered him something she couldn’t. Probably that blonde babe Cricket, who smiled so prettily while she was sharpening the knife to hold at Gray’s throat.
Nick’s hand moved up and down her back as if on auto-pilot. “She’ll figure it out. She knows Cricket—”
A thump from the doorway had Jazz lifting her head just as the door burst open. A guy wearing the clothes Gray had left in that morning stumbled through, his head tilting just right for her to glimpse the bloody gash that curved from his temple to jaw.
Horror bolted her in place. She couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was. His torn, bloodied clothes were barely hanging on his body and his face was more black and blue than its usual color. There was so much blood. So much.
But when he managed to raise his head and fix his eyes on the scene on the couch, the racking laugh that left him sounded all too familiar. “Isn’t this cozy?” he mumbled through cracked lips.
“Oh my God, Gray.” She stumbled up, her paralysis finally giving way to action. She’d made it halfway to him with Nick right behind her when Gray barked out a command.
“No. Don’t fucking touch me. Fucking liar.”
She stopped so abruptly that Nick crashed into her back and almost toppled her. He grabbed her hip to right himself and Gray laughed again, the sound so agonizing that Jazz covered her mouth with her hand.
“I fucking dragged…myself back to you, and you’re here…with him.” Gray sagged against the wall, his eyes closing. “Hope you’re fucking…happy.”
“Happy?” she screamed, unable to stop herself. Relief rushed through her veins, mixing with something far more darker and destructive. “What the hell happened to you? Where did you go this morning?”
It was only when he shifted that she noticed the unnatural bump on the top of his shoulder. At her gasp, Nick grabbed the phone off the side table and pushed it into her hand.
“Call 911,” he said.
“No,” Gray whispered. “No cops.”
Nick moved forward to offer his support to Gray. “She’s not calling the cops, man. You need a doctor. Your arm’s fucked up—”
“I said no fucking cops.” Gray jerked back from Nick hard enough to crash into the wall. Jazz swallowed a moan at the pain that telegraphed across his face before he slid down to the floor, his ass hitting the carpet almost as hard as he’d hit the wall. “I just need to sleep it off.”
“Sleep it off? Are you crazy? You’re barely conscious.”
“Oh I’m conscious.” Gray’s bleeding lips stretched into a macabre pantomime of a smile. “I’m conscious of what brought me to…this goddamn point. Never fucking changes.” He coughed, his shoulders heaving.
She hurtled forward and fell to her knees in front of him, helpless to stop the tears. “Let us help you,” she said, reaching out to touch his jaw with tentative fingers.
“You help me? Fat fucking chance. You and Nick are what got me here.” He wiped his sleeve over his mouth. “Wanna know when I started this? Try the night you walked out of that closet at the club with this bastard.” He jerked his thumb at Nick and shut his eyes.
She glanced at Nick in dawning horror and cupped her hand over her mouth again. The nausea was back, worse than ever.
If he was telling the truth, if he’d started the coke the night Gray had seen her and Nick come out of that closet before their concert, that meant this was all her fault. She’d done this to him. To them.
Nick shook his head minutely and crouched at Gray’s side. “Listen, man, you need help. If not from us, let us take you to the hospital.”
“Why?” Gray gripped his side, his pain so obvious that Jazz stumbled back and whirled away to try to get control of her traitorous stomach. “Want…me out of the way? Easier for you then.”
“Oh Jesus, when you get cleaned up, you’ll regret saying all of this, so I’m going to chalk it up to your injuries and ignore it. You can’t make me cry with your taunts, but you can make her cry, so maybe stuff it for a while until you know what the hell you’re saying, huh?”
“Big frigging savior, aren’t you? Saving her from me.” Gray laughed again, his breath wheezing through his teeth. Jazz moved her hand from her mouth to her belly, pressing there to try to calm the incessant rolling within.
When she was reasonably sure she was under control, she turned back, only to find Gray staring at her through narrowed eyes. “I got a phone call today,” he slurred. “Guess who? Mommy fucking dearest.”