Choose Me, Love Me

Part 14

Sunday Morning
Greys POV
I sat on my bed, staring blankly at my phone. The texts and notifications were just a blur at this point. My heart felt heavy, aching from everything—my seizures, feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, and those memories of my mom that I couldn't shake. I buried my face in the pillow, hoping that somehow all the weight I was carrying would just disappear, even if just for a second.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. Quickly, I wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together before I answered.
"Come in," I muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

The door creaked open, and in walked Momma Layla, Peyton's foster mom. Just having her there made the room feel warmer. She gave me this soft, understanding smile as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap.

"You remind me so much of a young Peyton," she said, her voice soothing like a lullaby. "Same quiet strength, but I can see a lot of hurt behind those eyes."

I blinked, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. My throat tightened, and I couldn't find any words, so I just looked down. I felt the tears building again, and I hated it. But when I looked back up, her expression had softened even more.

"Do you need a hug, baby?"

I nodded quickly, and a sob broke free before I could stop it. Without another word, she opened her arms, and I crawled into them, resting my head against her chest. Her embrace was firm but gentle, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I had to hold it all in anymore.

"It's okay," she whispered, her hand rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles. "Cry it out if you need to. You're safe here, Gray."

I couldn't hold back anymore. The sobs came louder, and I just let it all out—everything I had been bottling up. The fear, the pain, the confusion. I cried into her shoulder, gripping her sweater like if I let go, all the hurt would crash back into me even harder.

"Why?" I choked out through the tears. "Why did my momma hate me? Why didn't she love me? Why didn't I get to have a family like this from the start?"

Momma Layla's eyes shimmered, and she held me tighter, rocking me gently. "Oh, baby," she said softly, "sometimes people get caught up in the wrong things and the wrong people. They forget what's important, and they hurt the ones who need them the most. But that's not your fault, Gray."

"But why?" I asked again, my voice breaking. "Why did it have to be me?"

She kissed the top of my head, her hand smoothing down my curls. "I can't answer all the whys, sugar. But what I do know is this—you've found your family now. You've got Peyton, Jude, and you've got me. We're here for you, no matter what."

Sniffling, I reached under my pillow and pulled out Buddy, my stuffed animal. I held him close, trying to find some comfort in his familiar softness. Momma Layla kept rubbing my back, humming softly, until my tears finally slowed and my breathing evened out.

"Shh, it's okay now," she murmured. "You're safe, Gray."

The exhaustion finally caught up to me, and before I knew it, I was drifting off, my head resting against her shoulder.

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Peyton's Point of View

I stood outside Gray's door, leaning against the wall, listening quietly as Momma Layla comforted him. Hearing Gray cry like that, hearing the pain in his voice, it twisted something deep in my chest. I wanted to go in there and hold him, tell him it was going to be okay, but I knew better. Gray needed this moment with her. There was something about the way Momma Layla spoke that always seemed to make things better.