Broken Hands

61. Make a choice

Alex's footsteps faded into silence, leaving the room steeped in stillness. Grayson sank on the bed, his movements heavy with exhaustion. A sigh escaped him, long and drawn out, a feeble attempt to ease the weight crushing his chest.

That was awful.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the floor, unfocused. The lie he'd spun coiled tighter and tighter around him, making it hard to breathe. Alex's voice echoed relentlessly in his mind, every word soft with warmth and trust that Grayson knew he didn't deserve.

"I'm proud of you for being honest. I trust you."

The memory hit him like a blade, cutting deeper with each repetition. Honest. Trustworthy. Grayson pressed his palms to his face, the guilt clawing at him from the inside out. If only Alex knew the truth.

His hand dragged through his hair, fingers knotting in the strands. The compliment had felt less like praise and more like a punishment. He hadn't been honest—he'd lied straight to Alex's face. Lied to the one person who had shown him nothing but patience, who always seemed to believe he could be better. And what had Grayson done in return? Tested Alex at every turn, pushed him to the brink, and still, Alex stood firm, never raising his voice, always saying, "He'll get better."

Grayson swallowed hard. Alex was wrong. He wasn't getting better. He wasn't even trying. Deep down, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Damien's blunt words resurfaced in his mind, the theme of self-destruction.

Damien was right. He did want to disappear. Maybe this constant self-destruction was his way of speeding up the process.

His hands twisted together in his lap, pale knuckles turning whiter as guilt twisted harder in his gut. Why couldn't he just admit it? I'm not taking Lexapro anymore. I switched to Fetzima because I thought it would work better. I messed up.

The answer was painfully clear. He couldn't say it because he was terrified of what would follow. Damien's stern disappointment, the inevitable lectures, the cold sting of consequences. Worse, the quiet devastation in Alex's eyes—the one that always made him feel like he'd failed them both.

He'd been lying for so long it had become second nature. Hiding things wasn't just a habit; it was a survival mechanism. It wasn't just Damien and Alex he deceived—it was Russell, Julian, and everyone who cared enough to see past his defenses. Each lie was stacked on top of the last, building a wall he didn't know how to tear down.

Grayson leaned back, his head resting against the cold wall behind him. The weight of his secrets pressed harder, suffocating him. He was digging his own grave, and every time he chose silence over honesty, he shoveled another handful of dirt over himself. But what was the alternative? Confessing meant blowing everything up, watching the only people who cared about him finally lose faith.

Damien would be furious. Alex might give up for good. And then what? They'd send him away, wouldn't they? A boarding school, maybe. Or worse, somewhere he wouldn't have to be their problem anymore.

Grayson closed his eyes against the thought, shame washing over him. He didn't want that. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed them. Needed their presence, their words—no matter how harsh or soft. Without them, the world would be too quiet, too empty. Like it used to be.

His gaze drifted to his phone on the bedside table. Almost without thinking, he grabbed it, unlocking the screen. His thumb hovered over a name in his contacts: SunRay.

Grayson clicked the contact, and the phone began to ring. His breath hitched as he waited for the familiar voice to break the tension that coiled in his chest.