Touch of Gray (The Silver Fox #4)

78 Pages·2021·0.13 MB·english

by  Claire Ashlynn

TOUCH OF GRAY
Silver Foxes Series
CLAIRE ASHLYNN
Claire Ashlynn Romance
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Claire Ashlynn
Chapter One
GRAYSON WRIGHT
“T
hat was a great party,” Eli Austin says as he picks up an empty flute and sets it in the glass
basket on a long table up against the wall. The large room is riddled with tables covered with
leftover party items. Empty glassware and discarded plates spot the tables throughout the room. The
room is a mess.
Leaning against the wall, I watch him pick up abandoned items. With a shake of my head, I say,
“Just leave it for the clean-up crew. They can take care of it in the morning.” I glance at my watch and
sigh. “Well, later this morning.”
Eli tosses a couple of napkins in the trash bin and nods in agreement. He’s my right-hand man,
besides my brother, Bryson. The three of us graduated college and started our business together. Eli’s
our public relations person as well as our personal assistant. We’ve been working together for almost
ten years.
Ava Harper, the housekeeper, passes us as she maneuvers through the mess left behind from my
guests. She shakes her head as she sweeps through the room. I watch as she disappears through the
door with a tray loaded with random items from the tables.
I know she’ll keep working unless I say something, and maybe even then she’ll not stop. I follow
her to the kitchen and watch her set the tray on the counter. She begins to clean each item and dispose
of trash.
“Seriously, Ms. Harper, please just leave it for the cleaning crew. They’ll be here in just a few
hours,” I assure her.
“I understand, sir. I just can't stand a dirty house. But I'll do as you say for now,” she responds
with a grimace as she finishes wiping the tray and setting it aside. “If you don’t need anything else,
I’ll turn in for the night.”
“Of course. I’m fine. You have a good night,” I say as I watch her untie her apron and hang it on
the hook by the pantry door. Ava Harper has been with me just as long as Eli. I wondered why such a
young woman would want to be my live-in housekeeper instead of having a family of her own. She’s
kept her private life just that, private.
She glides out of the room through a side door that leads to the housekeeper’s quarters. It’s set up
nicely for her. It’s a studio apartment with its own kitchen, dining, and living room area.
I turn to the door I came through and exit. Stepping into the great room, I see Eli sprawled in a
chair by the fireplace.
Tossing myself down into a matching chair, I say, “That was a smash.”
“I agree. Did you get that little blonde’s number? I swear she was gonna crawl right into your
lap.” He smirks.
“I know, right? Yeah, of course, I grabbed it. But I doubt I’ll call. I got a vibe that she wanted to
be a trophy wife, not someone looking for a bit of fun.” I chuckle. I’m not settling down anytime soon.
I may be forty but I’m still in the prime of my life and not looking for a family. I have that with my
brother and his wife. They have two daughters, and I couldn’t be happier.
I close my eyes and lean my head back as exhaustion takes hold. Just as I doze off, the doorbell
rings, jerking me awake.
Glancing at Eli as I stand, I watch as he lurches from his chair and stumbles sleepily toward the
front door. I settle back and let him handle it. I’m sure it’s probably a party guest who’s forgotten
something.
Footsteps from more than one person clicking on the ceramic floor catch my attention. I sit up and
turn to the archway as Eli returns to the room with two police officers following close behind him.
The somber expression feeds my concern. I stand as the police officers approach me. “Mr. Wright?”
“Yes,” I answer, holding my breath. I have no neighbor close enough to complain about any noise
ordinance, plus the last party-goer left over an hour ago. Tension wracks my body as I wait on bated
breath.
“I am so sorry, sir. But I must inform you that your brother, Bryson Wright, and his family were in
an accident tonight.” Sincerity drops from his voice. He stands hunched, waiting. I know that it is bad.
“Are they all right?” I utter, already knowing the answer from their stance.
“Again, I’m sorry, sir. We’ll need you to come down to the hospital. We don’t have much
information to give you at the moment, but if you come to the emergency room, they’ll be able to bring
you up to date on their condition,” the officer states evasively.
“Very well,” I agree as Eli grabs our coats and we follow the police out the door.
The drive was a blur, but reality sets in as we pull into the parking lot.
I stare at the glaring neon light of the emergency room. Squinting my eyes, I give the sign an evil
glance like it’s the reason for all that has happened tonight.
My breathing comes in labored breaths. Eli throws the car’s gear into park and is out the door
before I can put my hand on the handle. He rounds the front and is at my door, waiting as I try to
control my panic attack. Gulping deep breaths, I try to even out my racing heart and erratic breathing.
They need me. I need to get my shit together.
Shaking out my hands to get rid of the nervous energy, I reach for the door handle and exit the car.
Eli’s there, waiting, always waiting. I’m thankful for his presence as we stride into the entrance to the
waiting room. My adrenaline spikes from the thought of the unknown. Centering my thoughts, I focus
on getting to my family.
I step up to the counter, and the woman behind greets me. “Good morning. How may I help you?”
“I . . .” I choke on my words.
“We’re looking for Bryson and Kathy Wright,” Eli steps up and answers.
“You’re family?” she asks and responds when we both nod. “Just one moment, please.” She starts
typing on the keyboard in front of her as she scans the screen.
I watch her intently. The sense of wrongness increases as her facial expression goes from
disinterested to shock then sadness. Her eyes mist and her plastic smile fade as she reads the
information.
“Oh . . . um . . . You’ll need to go to the ICU. That’s the second floor. The doctors are waiting for
you,” she says subduedly. An ominous air filters through. The hair on the back of my neck stands up
and I usher utter a quick thank you and storm to the elevators.
The doors open with a gust of frigid air, and the silence on the ride up is deafening. I struggle to
pull myself together. I draw in a deep breath, setting my mind in a paternal state of mind. I need to
take care of my family until they are better.
“Eli, find the girls, and I’ll deal with my brother and his wife,” I order, “We’ll see what needs to
be done to help them.” My mind won’t go to the thought of how hurt they may be. I can’t start thinking
about the worst until we know the extent of the damage. No one has told us anything yet.
He holds his mouth in a grim line as he nods in agreement.
The doors swish open to a jungle of people and machines. Sliding glass doors divide rooms from
the nurses’ station. People pass by swiftly dressed in scrubs and rush around in organized chaos. Each
room shows beds with patients hooked up to wired equipment. Anxiety flashes through me again.
Stepping forward toward the counter, a woman looks up from the papers she’s reading and greets
me with a strained smile. I know she’s being polite.
“Hello, can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m Grayson Wright. I’m looking for my brother Bryson Wright and his family. We were told that
they were up here,” I answer.
“Yes, of course, the doctor is with him now. The last room, room seven,” she responds and stands
to lead us the short distance to the room.
The room seems small with the equipment and personnel inside. Adding Eli and myself, it’s
almost cramped.
Bryson is lying in the bed, pale as a ghost. Wires and tubes come from everywhere on his body. I
choke on a groan. I can’t believe this is my vibrant brother, the one with all the energy and so full of
life.
The beeping of the heart monitor and the swishing sounds of the ventilator dominate the room as
the group of people working on him realize that I’ve entered the room.
“The brother, sir,” the woman says to the doctor before leaving.
“Mr. Wright, I’m truly sorry,” he begins.
“What is going on?” I demand as I cut him off. I don’t want any apologies, I want answers.
“You haven’t been informed?” he asks as a look of shock and surprise crosses his face before
settling back into a set of professional indifference.
“We just arrived. I was told by the police officers that my family was in a car accident and are
here at this hospital,” I explain with impatience creeping into my voice.
“Oh, dear . . . Yes, they were in an accident. I’m not sure how to tell you this . . .” he stammers
and then catches himself. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I’m going to be straightforward with you.
Your sister-in-law did not make it. From my understanding, she was killed on impact. Your brother is
another matter. He is on life support, but he has no brain activity.”
“What does this mean?” I ask as I lean against the wall for support. I already know the answer but
I’m not grasping it. There is no way they’re gone, just like that.
“It means that he is gone. There’s no coming back. He’s a registered organ donor. We are waiting
for you to say your goodbyes before proceeding down that avenue,” the doctor explains as he looks at
his clipboard. Really? The man just told me my family is gone and he can’t even look me in the eyes?
Could I, after telling someone they lost everyone they loved?
“The girls?” I choke, wanting to know but feeling like I can’t talk much more.
“Oh, yes. They’ve been taken to the pediatric wing but from what I was told they have some
bumps and bruises. Let’s see, yes, Kyleigh sustained a broken arm too, but they are in good health
overall,” he reports.
I turn to Eli and find that he’s already walking down the hall at a fast pace.
A throat clearing gains my attention. I glance at the doctor before walking stiffly toward the bed.
Grasping Bryson’s hand, I feel how cold and clammy it is. With one touch, I can tell that he’s
gone.
“Bye. I love you,” I whisper before giving it a squeeze and letting it slip from my hand.
The doctor hands me the clipboard and pen. “You’re the next of kin, you’ll have to sign the
release.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, more about hope than legal paperwork.
“Yes, I am absolutely positive,” he responds.
Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, I release it and sign.
“Do you want to be here when we disconnect him?” he asks. I know he’s doing his job but rage
starts to build.
“No, he’s gone. I want to know what happened.” I head toward the door. Looking through the
glass, I see two police officers waiting. They’re standing to the side of the door with their head
bowed and hats in their hands.
I stride up to them and ask, “What happened? Don’t you dare say my brother was drinking. He
came from my house and he wouldn’t drink with the kids in the car.”
“Alcohol was involved, just not on your brother’s end. A man in an old pickup truck swerved into
their lane and clipped their car. It sent them down the embankment into a tree. Mrs. Wright was killed
on impact, and your brother’s side of the car was hit by the truck. The girls were lucky. The back end
of the car didn’t sustain much damage,” the tall officer says.
“The driver?” I ask. Rage turning into fury. I will make him pay.
“Just passed. He lost control and his vehicle followed them over the cliff,” the other officer
informed me.
I’ve been cheated out of revenge. The man needs to pay. As my breathing settles, I realize the
anguish I’m feeling is too much. I need to get my shit under control for the girls.
“Thank you,” I say through strained lips. And I walk away toward my new wards.