Greyson Carteret has been sick for as long as he can remember. His life has been one surgery and invasive procedure after another, and nothing has helped. In fact, he seems to be getting worse, and he feels too miserable to care one way or the other. His father had apparently been unable to cope with his chronic illnesses and took off with another woman.
As a result, his mother is the only one available to see to his care. Now, though, due to a family emergency, she has to go out of town. She doesn’t feel Grey can be left on his own, so when his doctor refers a home healthcare agency to her, she hires Dylan Morse to look after Grey. To his surprise, Grey is fascinated by the man.
Dylan, who is taking a break from nursing by working as a home health aide, finds he likes Grey, and is saddened to learn the young man only has months to live. A friendship quickly develops between the two, and Grey regrets it isn’t likely to grow into anything more. However, Dylan is curious about Grey’s symptoms and by Mrs. Carteret’s insistence that her son only eat the food she’s prepared for him.
Will Dylan discover the truth behind Grey’s numerous illnesses? Can their friendship become anything more if he can help Grey live to see his twenty-third birthday?
NOTE: This story deals with issues of mental illness that some readers might find disturbing.
Grey sat on the toilet lid, his head buried in his hands. He’d been serious when he said he wished he was dead. He used to be able to finish all Mom’s soup before his stomach revolted. Now, it seemed, it only took a single spoonful for him to start throwing up.
And if he tried to explain that to Mom, she just got all upset that he didn’t like her cooking and she’d worked so hard for him and didn’t he love her?
And he’d force himself to try to finish it.
He looked up when Dylan returned, closing the door behind him. “Let’s keep it as warm in here as we can, okay?”
Grey forced himself to smile. “Okay.” He watched as Dylan lay his clothes on the vanity before hanging a couple of towels on the bar outside the shower stall. That was nice of him. Most people used a single towel, but Grey liked an extra one to dry his hair. His eyes widened as Dylan toed off his jogging shoes, then rested a hand against the wall and yanked off his white socks. “Why are you taking off your shoes and socks?”
Dylan reached for the hem of his top and yanked it off over his head.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“You were pretty shaky coming in here, so I’m not taking any chances. Don’t worry, Your virtue is safe with me.” Dylan waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll keep my skivvies on.”
“Thanks,” Grey said wryly. “That means so much to me.” Nothing like being reminded his odds of remaining a virgin were better than his odds of making it to his twenty-third birthday in September. Of course he knew he was on borrowed time. He wasn’t stupid.
“I thought it would.” Dylan’s grin was cheeky, and for a second, Grey couldn’t catch his breath. No one had ever grinned at him like that before.
And it was a damned good thing Dylan had no idea how morbid Grey’s thoughts had become.
Dylan shoved down his scrub pants. He stood before Grey in a pair of red -- bright red -- boxer briefs, and Grey’s mouth went dry. “Okay, let’s get you out of these clothes.”
Grey’s knees were wobbly, and not just because of his earlier bout of nausea. A fan of hair ran between Dylan’s pecs and down his torso to disappear beneath the waistband of his underwear. Grey had never seen such sculpted abs on anyone. Not that he’d seen very many near-naked people. He tried to banish those thoughts, but even concentrating on removing the sweatshirt and sleep pants he’d worn for the past few days didn’t help. He stood there, naked himself in front of this hunk, and he felt a blush rise from the center of his chest up to his eyebrows. It was a darned good thing he wasn’t well enough to get a hard-on.
“Good job.” Dylan tested the water temperature on his wrist, adjusted it, then wrapped that arm around Grey’s waist and helped him into the shower stall and onto the bath chair.
