Hook Up: A Fake Dating, Brother’s Best Friend Romance

An hour later, I dash through the front entrance of St. Luke. I’m shocked the cab driver could understand me through my rash of tears, but he gave my hand a squeeze before proceeding into the snarled mess of the Charlotte parkways.

Greg told me to avoid watching any replays of the accident, but he should know me better after all our years together. I’ve seen the video a minimum of fifty times, each time more devastating to my heart than the last.

Ryder was in the lead as he pulled into pit row and it looked as if he would win the race. Another trophy in his gilded case. But then, as he pulled out, everything went wrong. His car jerked, and he didn’t pick up speed. Instead, another driver slammed into him, upending Ryder’s car and tumbling him like a rag doll down the track.

I can’t watch beyond the moment of impact. My professional training is both a blessing and a curse. I don’t want to know how dire the prognosis is until I’m by his side. All I know is that he’s alive, and right now, that’s all that matters.

The anger I feel regarding Ryder’s betrayal? That will keep until he’s better. Then, I’m serving up the ass-kicking of a lifetime for breaking me.

The hospital staff directs me to the Neuro ICU, and my heart sinks. That unit is reserved for critically ill patients will all manner of head and spinal injuries. You don’t need a medical degree to know it doesn’t bode well.

I rush off the elevator, which moved at a snail’s pace and hurry to the waiting room. Inside, I find Greg, his head buried in his hands. I haven’t seen that posturing since the day he discovered he could no longer race.

“Greg.”

His head shoots up hearing my voice, and I see the tears brimming in his dark depths. Then I’m in his arms, his embrace so tight it constricts my breathing. “Thank God you’re here, Gigi.”

I grasp his face, trying to calm him. “How is he?”

“I don’t know. They don’t know. It’s all my fault.”

My brother slumps back into the chair and I scan the room for a doctor or nurse—anyone with more information than Greg. He tends to fall apart during times of family stress and Ryder is as close to family as they come.

My gaze lands on a lithe blonde seated away from the group. Mandi. It’s a knife in the gut to know she’s here, but I can’t spare her the time or energy right now. I need information about Ryder’s condition. Once I know he’s stable and on the mend, I can make myself scarce.

Mandi will just have to understand. Greg and I had dibs on Ryder’s heart long before she came into the picture.

“Are you Greer?”

Turning, I gaze into a handsome, chiseled face; one I recognize from all those racing magazines my brother devoured. Colton Donavan. “Yes. You’re Colton Donavan.”

“Just Colton works. When you address me by my full name, I figure I’m in trouble. Trust me, Rylee uses that tactic.” He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “The doctors are running some tests. They don’t know the extent of his injuries. At least they won’t tell me anything.”

That’s not a surprise. Unless you’re family, a hospital is a vault, no matter if you’re Joe from down the street or the President. “What happened? I saw the accident but—” Words fail me as my voice breaks and Colton wraps an arm around my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“His tire came off coming out of pit row. Before he could get off the track, another driver struck him.”

My gaze flits over to my brother, still hunched in his chair. No wonder he’s beating himself up. Something happened on his watch, and he’s carrying the weight of that failed responsibility. I need more details, but first, I need to know about Ryder. If nothing else, I’m still his wife, and that gives me certain legal rights, including his health status. “I need to speak with a doctor. I’ll get some information for you.”

“I’m sorry we had to meet this way. Ryder won’t shut up about you.”

I narrow my eyes at his words, wondering what in the world Ryder has said, considering recent events. But I don’t get the chance as a doctor enters the waiting area.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Gray.”

So much for Ryder keeping his marriage under wraps. I’ll sort that later. “I’m Mrs. Gray.” My gaze flits to the far side of the room where Mandi sits, gaze locked on mine. She may hold his heart, but legally, I’m his next of kin. I can get them the answers they desperately seek.

“Come with me, please. Mr. Gray is requesting you.”

A breath whooshes from my lips as relief washes over me. If he’s requesting me, he’s awake and lucid. All steps in the right direction. I follow the doctor into the unit, sucking in a lungful of oxygen to steel myself for what lies beyond that door.

“Come on. He’s waiting for you.” The doctor forces a smile, nodding toward the room.

There, lying in the bed is Ryder. He’s covered in bruises and scrapes, but he’s alive.

That knowledge damn near brings me to my knees.

“Mr. Gray, there’s someone here to see you.”

Ryder turns his head in the direction of the doctor’s voice, but he doesn’t make eye contact. Odd. “Gigi?”

Rushing to his side, I grasp his hand, noting how he still isn’t meeting my gaze. “Hey, speed racer. How are you feeling?”

Ryder swallows, an audible noise in the quiet descending over the room. It’s the kind of quiet that suffocates you, the same quiet I felt when my mother told us about my father’s abandonment. “I can’t see, Gigi.”

My throat constricts as I blink back the tears, willing every ounce of strength I possess to move me past that moment. “What’s his diagnosis?”

“Traumatic optic neuropathy,” the intensivist replies, stepping to Ryder’s bedside. “He was unconscious when he arrived, so we didn’t realize there was any visual deficit until he woke up. Your husband told me you’re a doctor?”

“I’m a nurse practitioner and I told Ryder never to call me a doctor in front of a doctor.” I squeeze Ryder’s hand, desperate to provide him reassurance. “Neurology isn’t my specialty. What’s the plan?”

“Many times, it rectifies on its own, once the swelling impinging the nerve resolves. To be on the safe side, I’ve ordered some tests to ensure the retina is attached and blood flow isn’t compromised.”

“When will that happen?”

“As soon as possible. There’s no time to waste. But, he wanted a few moments to speak with you, so I’ll take my leave and tell the nurse to send up transport.”

Once the intensivist leaves, I put on my proverbial nursing hat. Ryder doesn’t need a wife; he needs a friend who understands medicine. Adjusting his pillow, I try in vain to make him more comfortable. “Are you in pain?”

His eyes, those beautiful bright blue eyes, gaze past me into the distance. “Everything hurts. What’s going to happen to me, Gigi?”

I want to lie to him. I don’t want to tell Ryder the brutal truth about his condition. He needs hope. That’s the fine line medical personnel tread every day. “They’re going to perform some tests and find out how extensive the damage is to your eyes. From there, they’ll develop a treatment plan.”

“I’m going to get better, right?”

“Of course you are. You’re Ryder Gray.”

“Your voice is trembling. Gigi, don’t lie to me. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Stroking my hand across his scalp, I press kisses to his forehead and tell him the only truth I know. “We don’t know yet. But they’re doing everything they can to find out.”

“You’ll stay, right? Don’t leave me alone.”

The undercurrent of fear in his voice breaks me. “I can’t go with you to the procedure, but I’ll be in the waiting room. I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m here.” I mean it, too. There’s no way I’ll leave his side now, not as long as he needs my help. It doesn’t matter who he’s in love with. Ryder Gray is my childhood friend, and I’ll be damned if he spends one second thinking he’s alone in this world. “Transport is here to take you for the testing. What should I tell everyone in the waiting room? Greg and Colton are both worried sick.”

I don’t mention Mandi. Ryder must know she’s there.

“Tell them the truth. I’m not done fighting, not by a long shot.” His fingers tighten around mine, pulling me closer. “I wanted to win for you.”

I lean my forehead against his; the tears dripping off my nose. “You’re always a winner to me, Ryder.”

His hands grip my face, his breath hot against my skin. “I want to see your beautiful face, Gigi. If I see nothing else, I want to see you. Just you.”

The tears fall in earnest now, sliding over his hands. “You will. Don’t you give up.”

“Promise you’ll be here when I’m done?”

Pressing a kiss to his palm, I nod against his hand. “I promise.”

As they wheel him out, the apprehension lines his face. Gone is the superstar facade, replaced with a man terrified by the thought of his future.

I have one job now—to protect him at all costs.

The moment I enter the waiting area, his mother rushes over, pulling me into a tight embrace. She must have just arrived at the hospital. “How is he?”

“He’s awake and talking. Moving all of his limbs.” I pause as Colton, Greg, and Mandi edge closer. Might as well fill everyone in at the same time. Let them know Ryder has only begun to fight. “He’s lucid but scared. When he woke up, he couldn’t see.”

A collective gasp rises from the group.

“It’s what is known as traumatic optic neuropathy.”

“Will he regain his vision?” Mandi inquires, her face drawn.

Under normal circumstances, I’d claw her eyes out, so she could experience blindness firsthand. But that was before. Now, I only want to care for the man we both love. He begged me to stay. I made him a promise, one I intend to keep.

“They aren’t sure. They’re running tests to determine the extent of the damage. We’ll know more later. Often, this type of thing resolves on its own.”

Ryder’s mother dissolves into tears, and I stroke her back, trying to offer a modicum of reassurance. Better if everyone sheds their tears now, because Ryder will need all their strength in the coming days.

After what feels like an eternity, a new doctor, a neuro ophthalmologist, appears. The initial diagnosis stands, but they’re hopeful he might regain partial vision over time.

At this point, it’s anyone’s guess. The awful waiting game where the reach of medicine is overruled by the laws of nature.

The plan is high-dose steroids, with the possibility of surgery in the next couple of days, if he shows no improvement.

The doctor’s words bring about another rash of tears from the group, save for me, who’s desperate to return to Ryder’s side. It’s not that the temptation to break down isn’t there, but what good will that do him? Ryder needs me to keep it together so he can fall apart. Then I’ll put him back together, piece by piece.

Rushing to his bedside, I press my lips to his cheek, noting the slight smile at my caress. I’ll give it to the man. He’s stoic in the face of the unknown, his features a sea of calm. It might also be the effects of the sedative. “You spoke with the doctor?” he inquires.

“I did. They’re hopeful—”

“Are you going to leave now?” Ryder cuts me off with a grimace.

One look at his face and I know to what he’s referring. “Of course not.”

“Right,” he mutters, his sightless eyes peering at the ceiling. “Because being stuck with a blind man is what you always wanted, right Gigi?”

I slide my hands along his jaw. I know he can’t see me, but he needs to feel the determination in my touch. The reassurance that I’m not going anywhere. “Hey, you’re going to get better. I’m here to ensure that happens.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together. You’re not getting rid of me, Ryder Gray. Nice try, but it’s not happening.”

Finally, the hardened mask slides from his features as he cracks a smile. “You were always stubborn.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Am I terrified? Absolutely, but he will never see that side of me. The logistics, the brutal truth of his injury—that he will probably only regain partial vision, if he’s lucky—is not a story I’m allowing anywhere near Ryder. Hope is the most powerful drug in the world, and he needs a plethora of it right now.

Besides, if there’s anyone on the planet who can overcome this obstacle, it’s my husband.

My husband. A pang of sadness overtakes me when that thought enters my head, but I push it away. Now is not the time for that discussion, either.

Ryder huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “I was winning. Everything was going so smoothly… until it wasn’t. I don’t know what happened.”

He’s not the only one who wants to know what occurred in those fateful moments. A talk with my brother is imminent. He’ll know the specifics of the accident, be able to shed some light on the subject. “Colton has an investigative team looking into everything.”

“I can’t be done. Not like this. Not like this.” Ryder’s voice cracks, his hand trembling in mine.

How do you reassure someone their life is going to continue, despite such a debilitating injury? How do you convince them that despite limitations, they will laugh again? Find joy in their days? Have a reason to live when the only reason they had has been stripped from them?

I wish I knew the answer to any of those questions.

Instead, I dig deep, letting my sarcastic sense of humor bubble to the surface. “You be quiet. You’re not done. You are many things, Ryder Gray—arrogant and overly confident among them—but you are no quitter. I sure as hell won’t let you quit now.”

That does it. A chuckle slips past his full lips. “You had to list all my strengths, didn’t you, Gigi?”

“Hey, I knew you when. Don’t forget that.” I lean over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Get some sleep. Your body needs the rest. I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”

His hand darts out, catching at my forearm. “I always need you. Don’t forget that.”

With a final kiss on his cheek, I return to the waiting room. Colton has left, no doubt, to get a jumpstart on the investigation and bring another driver up to speed. He loves Ryder, but this is a business and the show must go on.

Mandi, too, is nowhere to be found. I find it odd that Ryder never asked for her, even to question if she was at the hospital. But I’m no masochist. Until he brings her up, I’m sure as hell not mentioning her name.

Greg, however, hasn’t moved from his chair, his head still buried in his hands as the guilt wafts off him. Time to find out what really happened.

“Greggo, let’s get some coffee.”

Without a word, he falls into step behind me, trailing me to the hospital cafeteria.

After directing him to a table, I order us some food. I’m no fool. We need to keep our wits and strength about us, or we’ll wind up in a hospital bed, too. That’s the last thing Ryder needs.

“Here. Black and thick as mud. Just the way you like it.”

He accepts the drink, his hands gripping the mug as he stares into the dank liquid.

“I doubt the answers are at the bottom of that cup.”

“I let him down, Gigi.”

Grasping his hand, I give it a reassuring squeeze. “It was an accident, Greg. Accidents happen.”

“The tire was loose.”

I nod, uncertain where he’s headed. “Like I said, accidents happen.”

“I was in charge of tightening the tires. I thought I got it on there, but the second the car hit the pavement, I knew something was off.”

My heart skips a beat at his words. “Wait a minute, you knew before he drove off?”

Greg shakes his head, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. “By the time I realized, he was gone. Before I could utter a word, he was hit.”

“It’s still an accident. You never meant for this to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s blind, and it’s all my fault. Do you think a simple apology is going to fix this situation? It won’t. Once he learns the truth, Ryder will hate me, and he has every right.”

Kneeling by Greg’s chair, I clasp his hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Ryder will never hate you. He trusts you. That’s why he hired you.”

Greg wrenches his hands from my grip, pushing himself to a standing position. “He almost died because of me. His racing career is likely over because of me. Trust me, Gigi, I’m no good to anyone.”

My brother storms out the door, but I’m too exhausted to follow. Besides, it’s fairly obvious Greg is in a self-destructive mode, blaming himself for Ryder’s current predicament. His next stop? Likely the nearest pub, where he can drown his sorrows. After Dad left, that became his coping mechanism, his escape from reality.

The only saving grace is his drinking never interfered with his work, but it’s still spiraling out of control. Once Ryder is on his way to recovery, I’ll chat with Greg about reining in his habit and finding one a little less lethal to the body and soul.

Trudging back to the ICU, I check on Ryder. He’s sleeping. Good. He’ll need every ounce of strength. I collapse into a waiting room chair with a blanket offered by one of the nurses. Ryder’s mother is asleep a few chairs down, her gentle snores echoing the exhaustion of the last twelve hours.

My eyes drift closed, but I can’t relax enough to rest. Instead, Ryder’s accident plays over and over in my head, the fear constricting my throat when I saw that mangled pile of metal and carbon fiber. I never want to experience that feeling again.

Even if Ryder never regains his sight, at least he’s alive.

The idea of that man—that cocky, self-assured, gorgeous man—not on this planet is more than I can bear. Every fear I discussed with Ryder on our vacation screeches to the forefront of my brain, and I can’t help but wonder if I somehow breathed it into creation by uttering my fears aloud.

Shaking off the notion and chalking it up to lack of sleep, I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hello?”

“Greer? This is Colton. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye earlier.”

“I understand. He’s sleeping now.”

“He needs the rest.” Colton clears his throat, and a sense of foreboding drifts over me. “Look, I hate to lay this on you, considering the day we’ve all had, but I think you should know before the media gets hold of it.”

Rubbing a hand over my brow, I wonder if he’s going to mention my spur-of-the-moment nuptials. Bad timing, certainly, but the last thing Ryder needs on top of everything else is bad press. “You mean our marriage?”

“No,” Colton scoffs, “although he knocked my ass sideways with that one. It’s about the accident. It’s standard to run a toxicology screen on the driver and pit crew after something of this magnitude occurs.”

“Ryder was on something?”

“Not Ryder, but certain members of the pit crew tested positive for cocaine and alcohol. It’s a hard and fast rule you don’t imbibe before a race. That’s just common sense, but a few members of the crew opted to toss that rule out the window, and here we are.”

“Which members?” I barely manage the question as the blood pounds in my ears and my anger careens into the red.

The people hired to keep Ryder safe were working under the effects of drugs and alcohol. They held his life in their hands and didn’t respect it enough to be sober.

“I can’t disclose their identities yet, since there are legalities involved. But I wanted you to be prepared for the fallout when Ryder finds out. This is going to devastate him.”

“Which is why you can’t tell him,” I argue, pacing lines into the waiting room carpet. “Colton, he does need to know, but not now. This news will only increase his stress level and impede healing. I’m begging you, don’t tell him yet.”

“Greer, the media is going to have a field day with this story. There’s no way he won’t find out.”

“I can monitor what information he receives. I want him to have the truth, but not until he’s stabilized. Please, can you hold them off for a few days?”

Silence echoes from the other end of the line before Colton releases an audible sigh. “I’ll do my best. I understand your perspective and you’re right, he doesn’t need more stress.”

“If he gets mad when you tell him, just blame me. He can’t hate me forever. I won’t let him.”

Colton chuckles. “Now you sound like my wife. I’ll be by tomorrow to check on him. Any changes, you can reach me at this number.”

I collapse into the chair, my mind reeling from the news. This accident was likely preventable if Ryder’s staff had only taken their damn jobs seriously. My thoughts flicker over to Greg and his earlier statements. He was certain Ryder would hate him.

What if Greg was one of the people who imbibed before the race? What if the alcohol clouded his brain, even for a second, resulting in Ryder’s injury?

If my brother was involved, I’ll never forgive him.

Worse, he’ll never forgive himself.