Page 100 of Freestyle
Gray.
Slouched in an uncomfortable-looking plastic hospital chair beside my bed, his jacket long since discarded, his knuckles scraped and bandaged. His eyes are rimmed red from exhaustion, but they’re wide open, locked on me the second I stir.
“You’re awake.” His voice is ragged. Gentle. Like he’s afraid if he speaks too loud, I’ll disappear.
“Gray,” I whisper. My lips are cracked, my throat sandpaper, but he hears me like I shouted.
He exhales, a sound that’s half-laugh, half-relief. He leans forward, his free hand brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes, fingers trembling.
“You scared thehell out of us when you passed out in my lap. I couldn’t wake you.” His voice sounds pained as he tracks my body, making sure I’m really here.
I blink up at him, lids heavy, throat dry, but my fingers manage to curl around his.
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, voice shaky. “I—I didn’t know I was fading.”
Gray shakes his head slowly, jaw clenched like he’s holding something back. “You were in my arms, Rowyn. One second you were here and the next…” He trails off, swallowing thickly. “I thought we lost you. I thought I lost you.”
I can feel it now, the way my body gave out in the aftermath. The burn, the adrenaline that got me through finally demanding its price.
“I’m okay,” I say, because it’s what he needs. WhatIneed.
“You’re here,” he agrees softly, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. “But I didn’t breathe the whole ride over, neither did Nix. He’s been trying to act chill, but I saw his hands shaking.”
That’s when I realize we’re not alone.
Across the room, sprawled half-on and half-off the tiny couch, is Nix.
He’s curled into himself, face turned toward me, one arm wrapped in gauze and bandages, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He’s got a blanket pulled haphazardlyover his legs, one foot sticking out, and he’s snoring. Barely. But it’s the soft, breathy kind of snore that makes my eyes sting with something too big to name.
He looks like home.
They both do.
I shift a little, and pain flares in my thigh. I wince, sharp and sudden, and Gray’s hand tightens instantly.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
The words land somewhere deep, in that hollow space where fear used to live.
“You stayed.”
“Of course we did.” His gaze flicks over my face like he’s memorizing me. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The tears hit then. I try to blink them back, but it’s useless. They spill anyway, hot, silent, unstoppable.
Gray leans closer, forehead resting gently against mine, and Nix stirs.
His eyes crack open, bleary and bloodshot, and for a second he just stares.
Then he grins. Sleepy. Crooked. So him it hurts.
“Hey, baby girl,” he rasps. “You back with us?”
I nod through the tears, and Gray chuckles softly beside me.
“You bled to protect me,” I murmur, then realize I said it out loud.
Gray freezes like I struck a chord hedidn’t know was exposed. The silence stretches between us, thick and reverent.
