Broken Hands

60. Filling the gap

Alex lingered on Russell's doorway and then slipped in. Inside, Russell was sitting on his bed, folding a clean stack of shirts with a precision that would make any drill sergeant proud. The boy looked up, his dusty blond hair falling slightly over his forehead, and smiled when he saw Alex.

"Hey, Uncle Alex," Russell greeted warmly, his baby-blue eyes bright, though there was a hint of something guarded beneath his expression.

"Hi," Alex said, stepping inside and leaning casually against the doorframe. "got a minute?"

"Yeah, of course," Russell replied, setting the folded shirt aside.

Alex tilted his head toward the neatly folded laundry. "You always do this so perfectly. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to show me up."

Russell chuckled lightly. "Just being neat."

Alex smiled at the response, but his eyes lingered on Russell's face, searching for the cracks beneath the surface. "You have your games coming up, have you told your dad yet?" Alex began.

Russell nodded as he placed a stocking aside "He said he couldn't make it."

Alex wasn't expecting that, "Is that so?"

Russell's smile brightened instantly, though it faltered just as quickly, like a mask slipping. "Yeah, he's busy. It's fine. I get it." He nodded a little too fast, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a towel.

Alex took a step forward and sat on the edge of the bed. "Russell," he said gently, "if it were up to him, he'd be there. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Russell replied quickly, his smile widening. "I understand. He's got work—important work. I don't blame him for that."

Alex studied him for a moment before nodding. "So, is there anything I can do? Do you need help with the game? A ride? Maybe some cheering from the sidelines?"

Russell hesitated, his hands stilling for a brief moment. "Actually," he began, his voice quieter now, "I was wondering if... maybe you could come? You don't have to if you're busy, but it'd be nice to have you all there, you know?"

Alex placed a hand on Russell's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Of course, I'll come. With Julian and Grayson."

Russell grinned. "That's perfect. Even if three is an odd number."

"That's the spirit," Alex said with a wink.

Russell's smile softened. "Thanks, Uncle Alex. For... you know, being there. Always."

Alex pulled him into a side hug, patting his shoulder. "You're family, Russell. That's what we're here for."

Russell nodded, his gaze dropping briefly to the stack of laundry. "I appreciate it."

"Great, and I'm lucky to have you as a nephew," Alex said, standing Russell grinned meeting his eyes with pure admiration. "Now finish up this laundry before it swallows your room whole."

Russell laughed, the sound more genuine this time, and nodded as he returned to folding.

Alex left the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the way Russell's smile had faltered, the speed with which he'd nodded when talking about Damien. Alex knew Russell tried hard not to bother anyone, but it was clear the boy was carrying more than he let on.

Alex paused in front of Grayson's door, he went back to the scene yesterday, he really wanted to step in but he was sure Grayson wouldn't appreciate, if there was one thing he learned concerning Grayson since he started growing was his further retreat if emotionally overwhelmed, Alex felt like it was right to give him space, let him relax and breath. The sound of rustling from inside catching his attention. He raised a hand, knocked softly, and pushed the door open halfway. His eyes landed on Grayson, who was shutting a drawer with a hurried motion. The sharp, almost mechanical way Grayson stood up only confirmed Alex's suspicion: he was hiding something. Again.

It was becoming a pattern—Grayson retreating into secrets that felt too dangerous to leave unchecked.

Grayson's silver eyes met Alex's, his expression unreadable for a moment before he glanced away, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hey," Alex started, keeping his tone light. "Busy?"

Grayson gave a half-hearted shrug, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Alex stepped in, closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?" he asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Grayson's lips pressed into a thin line before he muttered, "Good." His voice carried the familiar edge of weariness, like he was dragging the word out against his will.

Alex patted the spot next to him. "Come here, Gray."

For a moment, Grayson hesitated, his eyes darting toward the door as if weighing the risk of staying. Finally, he moved forward, sitting down with stiff reluctance. His shoulders were taut, his whole posture a barricade.

Alex studied him carefully. "What happened? Yesterday, today—what's going on?" His voice was low, almost coaxing.

Grayson tugged at his sleeves, the fabric swallowing his hands as he spoke, his tone hard. "He told you, didn't he? About everything including when you were away."

"Who?" Alex asked, playing along. "I need the full story, Gray."

Grayson frowned at the floor brows furrowing, "You won't believe me."

Alex frowned in turn, "I didn't say that, why would you think that? Grayson I need you to tell me the true story and the truth despite."

Grayson blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. He inhaled deeply before starting, his voice quiet. "I wasn't riding a bike this time." He paused, eyes shifting, as though assembling the words was physically painful. "I was just... at a friend's place. And..."

"And?" Alex prompted gently, watching as Grayson's hands disappeared back into his pockets—a tell he couldn't miss.

"And then," Grayson sighed heavily, his tone sharpening with frustration, "I left. I was trying to get back in time, I swear. I wasn't even riding, we had a problem with the brake. But then the cops showed up, and they just—jumped to conclusions."

Alex frowned. "What kind of conclusions?"

Grayson stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "Why does it matter? I'm telling you the truth, Uncle Lex. I know I've screwed up before, but you should trust me on this one." His voice wavered, equal parts defiance and plea.

Alex held his gaze. "I do trust you, Gray. But something doesn't add up."

Grayson exhaled sharply, his frustration palpable, but he said nothing.

"What about the pills?" Alex asked suddenly.

Grayson froze, the shift in his posture unmistakable. His lips parted, but no sound came. Finally, he forced the words out. "They're... they're the prescribed ones."

Alex tilted his head slightly, then decided to slow down, Grayson was already closing up. "Then the doctor must've made a mistake." Alex agreed with him despite the obvious.

Grayson's jaw moved like he wanted to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Alex stood, closing the space between them. "Listen to me, Gray. I'm not here to push you toward some impossible standard. Neither is Damien. We just want you to be okay. To give yourself a real chance to heal, so be honest. That's all we're asking. And for what it's worth, I'm proud of you for being honest. I trust you. And what you have just said."

Grayson looked away, his throat bobbing as though swallowing the compliment was harder than any lecture.

Alex stepped back, offering an out. "Get something to eat. Then we're going to the hospital."

Grayson's head snapped up, his voice sharp. "Why?"

"To make sure you're okay," Alex replied evenly. "I'm not taking any chances with you passing out again. I don't want you getting hurt."

Grayson didn't answer, but his face said enough.

Satisfied, Alex moved toward the door. "I'll be downstairs," he said, glancing back. "You're not alone in this, Gray. Remember that."

With that, he slipped out, hoping this would work, it had to.

A/N

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