Page 126 of Mended Hearts

“Fucking psycho.”

“Plus, there are only so many procedures that leave a scar like that.”

“Why the fuck are you looking at her tits, man?”

Greyson didn’t flinch. “Like you don’t notice a woman in a bikini. It’s not exactly subtle.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself.”

He rolled his. “Go on.”

“I got us in with a high-risk OB this afternoon.”

“Dr. Swift?”

I leveled a glare at him, but the asshole just chuckled and turned to swipe the scotch bottle again. Perks of him being in charge of security—his guys reported to him, not me.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Everything looks perfect,” I said, the tension in my chest loosening when Grey’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Then what happened?”

“I just... I panicked, man.”

“Because ofCruella?”

“That’s a bullshit excuse.”

“Maybe. But narcissistic abuse leaves wreckage, Ollie—and you tolerated hers for years under the banner of ‘keeping the peace.’”

“Maybe.”

“Keep going. Fill me in so we can sort out your mess.”

On a groan, I buried my face in my palms, then collapsed back into the chair, grateful when he handed me a second pour. So I told him everything. From the high of seeing the first ultrasound and realizing one of my kids would finally have an incredible mother—to the spiral that followed. The gut punch of hearing about her valve repair. The freefall of trying to get it right and reaching for control in all the wrong places. The coffee shop tension. The Bentley meltdown. The accidental proposal.

“Alright,” he said, nodding slowly. “Give her time.”

“What?” My stomach lurched at the thought. “No. I need to fix this now.”

“You go after her now, you’ll just piss her off more. Let her breathe. Try again tomorrow—or better yet, Monday.”

“She’s flying to Florida tomorrow.”

“Right. Well. Sucks to suck.”

“Fuck you.”

He just laughed, dragging a palm across the back of his neck. “Ollie. You’ll figure this out—but you’re gonna have to grovel.”

“You think?”

“Probably for months. She’s fucking feral.”

“I hate when you say that.”

---