As soon as I delivered the pillow and blanket to Gray, I hustled away as quickly as my legs could carry me. I practically ran to my bedroom and closed the door behind me with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart.

I felt like a pathetic adolescent with a crush again.

That man was too damn attractive for my peace of mind. The tension between us was getting out of hand. With frustrated sigh, I climbed into bed beside Stevie's crib, willing myself to fall asleep and wipe away all the mental images of Gray's chiseled, muscled form and the very large and very noticeable tent from his joggers. My mind was beyond flustered. I felt embarrassingly turned on. Needless to say, it took a lot of tossing and turning that evening before I finally fell asleep.

Hours later, in the dead of night, I jolted awake when I heard a muffled male scream cut through the air.

The sound had come from the living room. It took a moment for my half-asleep mind to process that the scream had come from Gray. His cry didn't wake up Stevie, thank goodness, but I was up, growing progressively more alert and concerned as my grogginess wore off. I glanced around the shadowy bedroom. It was still dark outside. After I checked on Stevie, who was sound asleep, I quickly threw on my robe and hustled out to the living room to see if Gray was okay.

When I found him, he was thrashing around on the pull-out couch. My eyes grew wide with shock. I had never seen him like this before. It looked as though Gray was fighting some kind of invisible enemy. He was gnashing his teeth, grunting and groaning softly as though in pain. His eyes were shut tight.

Seeing him this way was distressing, almost disturbing, to say the least. My chest seized up with unease. Frantically, my mind began to churn with possibilities, searching for a reason, for answers, to explain his troubling behavior. I wanted to help him.

Was Gray having a nightmare or was there something more serious going on here?

My thoughts took a dive towards darker places.

Was this some sort of episode brought on by PTSD?

Maybe he was still holding onto trauma from being his father's son?

Or maybe this had something to do with his time as a Marine?

God, I couldn't even imagine the horrors he lived through during his deployments in Afghanistan—

My train of thought hit a mental brick wall. I was at a loss. I simply didn't know what was going on with Gray. I suddenly realized that I had never known this side of Gray. Not truly. Not deeply.

Even as kids, he always put on a brave face for me, hiding his hurt from the world, glossing over the scary shit that went down in his father's home, because he was the kind of guy who didn't want to burden others with his problems. Back then, I had become an expert at reading between the lines and digging out the truth in whatever Gray left unsaid, but it broke my heart each time he kept me at a distance.

At the moment, I didn't dare touch him even though I wanted to rush over and comfort him. Clenching my fists at my side, I held myself back. I didn't want to pretend as though I knew what he was going through. I was scared of making things worse and stressing him out more.

So, as quietly and calmly as possible, I whispered, "Gray? I think you're having a bad dream. Wake up. Please."

Gray didn't seem to hear me. His body continued to shuffle around in restless movements. Without opening his eyes, he growled something unintelligible.

Frowning, I struggled to decipher what he said—

Something about carrying on and watching your six?

In a slightly louder voice, I repeated, "Gray? Wake up. Please."

Gray ignored me again, muttering something else under his breath.

Desperately, I tried once more, "Gray? It's me, Gracie. You're in my living room. You're safe here. Please wake up."

This time, his eyes sprung open. Gray sat up like a man possessed. His spine was locked, stiff and straight, as he sucked in a gasp of air. The sharp intake of breath reminded me of a drowning person who had finally bobbed his head above water. Gray's gaze drifted around the dark room, looking lost and confused.

I took a few steps towards him. "Hey..."

His gaze snapped in my direction. He blinked a few times. Gray seemed surprised to see me.

"Gracie? What are you doing here?"

His voice sounded hoarse and gravelly from slumber.

With a worried crease on my brow, I explained, "I, um... heard you call out. From my room."

He winced and glanced away. Shame clouded his handsome features.

Gray cursed, "Ah, fuck..."

I shuffled towards the pull-out and sat down on the edge of the couch. I reached over to hold his hand. I was relieved when he didn't pull away from me.

Gently, I asked, "What's going on?"