Broken Hands

65. Nothing has changed

Grayson returned home to an empty living room, relieved that Damien wasn't there. The reprieve wouldn't last forever, but for now, he needed to clear his head. Without a word, he changed out of uniform into gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved sports shirt. As he reached for Stray's leash, the dog perked up, tail wagging as if sensing the escape plan.

"Come on, girl, gotta run," Grayson muttered, leading Stray out of the room and toward Russell's. He knocked lightly before pushing the door open, stepping into the glow of the TV. Russell was glued to his console, fingers flying over the controller.

"Hey," Grayson started, leaning against the doorframe. "Wanna go for a run?"

Russell paused the game, spinning his chair to face him. His blue eyes scanned Grayson's face with quiet curiosity. "You? A run? This feels like a trap."

Grayson huffed, feigning impatience. "Take it or leave it."

Russell smirked, setting the controller down. "Yeah, why not. Let me grab my stuff."

"I'll be outside." Grayson exited, heading for Julian's room next. He found the boy sitting cross-legged on his bed, earbuds in, engrossed in a subtitled K-drama while munching on crackers.

"Hey, Barbie," Grayson called out, leaning into the doorway. "Are you coming for a run, or are you too busy swooning over—what is that? Korean soap opera people?"

Julian scowled, pulling out one earbud. "You don't have to be mean to me just to invite me somewhere, Graydaughter." His tone dripped with mock indignation. "But yeah, I'm coming, because of Stray. Give me a minute."

Grayson snorted but said nothing, stepping back as Julian began shuffling around for his shoes. Downstairs, Russell was already waiting, dressed in a jogging shirt and shorts.

Alex appeared from the kitchen, a bowl in his hand. "Where's everyone off to?" he asked, raising a curious brow.

"Jogging," Julian answered, descending the stairs in a burst of energy. "Grayson's idea."

Alex chuckled softly, a trace of approval in his smile. "Have fun out there. Try not to lose anyone."

The trio stepped outside, greeted by the cool bite of evening air. Stray padded alongside Grayson as they began their jog, their footsteps echoing against the pavement. The road stretched ahead of them, damp from a light drizzle earlier, its surface shimmering faintly under the streetlights. A breeze whistled through the trees, scattering leaves across the path. A few neighbors walked their dogs or chatted by their fences, offering polite nods as the boys passed.

The silence between them was companionable at first, broken only by the rhythmic sound of sneakers hitting the ground. Julian, as usual, was the first to break it.

"So, Grayson," he began, slightly breathless, "how's Durham treating you?"

Grayson kept his focus on the road ahead, controlling his breathing. "I'm holding up."

Russell chimed in, glancing sideways. "You're definitely holding up, but you're not the same. You've, uh... changed."

Grayson shot him a questioning look. "How?"

"Lost weight. Lost elegance. Lost fun," Russell listed, a teasing edge to his tone. Julian nodded dramatically in agreement but nearly tripped on the uneven pavement, catching himself just in time.

"Close one," Julian muttered, resuming his stride.

Grayson exhaled sharply. "Durham's no joke. Too many rules. Not enough time. Zero tolerance for mistakes."

Julian looked at him with something bordering on pity. "Wish you were still at Marvin. The students still talk about you there. Oh, and Grace wrote this character based on you. It's blowing up on the boards."