Broken Hands

66. Confrontations

Grayson and his cousins burst into the house, their breaths labored and skin gleaming with sweat from their race home. Russell, triumphant and gloating over his win, slapped Julian's shoulder as they collapsed into laughter. Julian, though last, held his chin high, proud of not giving up. Grayson chuckled softly before slipping away toward his room, Stray trotting dutifully at his side.

Once inside, Grayson led Stray to the bathroom, carefully washing the dog's muddy paws as he stared at it with so much affection, if there was a good decision he had ever made it would be her, she was gold! The warm water cascaded over his hands, grounding him in the repetitive task. After drying Stray, he stepped into the shower, letting the spray wash away the remnants of the day. The faint scars on his forearms caught his eye as he rolled up his sleeves while drying off. They seemed quieter now, less glaring, but still there—a reminder. This has to get better.

Dressed in a black sweater adorned with a grim reaper and matching pants, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He pulled his sleeves down firmly and left his room. Tonight felt different. He felt hungry—a rarity—and decided he'd join the family for dinner.

Descending the stairs, Grayson heard Alex's voice before he saw him, the older man speaking sharply into the phone. "We've got the deal, but we can't let our guard down. We need to keep an eye on this."

Grayson slid on a stool at the kitchen counter, observing Alex as he finished the call. His uncle's jawline and profile stirred a familiar ache in Grayson's chest. There were traces of his mother in those features, subtle but present, enough to make him wish—just for a moment—that Alex was her. His fingers absentmindedly traced the worn beads of the bracelet on his wrist, a fragile tether to memories he desperately clung to.

Alex hung up and turned toward him. "How was jogging?"

"It was good," Grayson replied honestly. "Worth it."

Alex nodded, his tone softening. "Grab a plate. You've got to eat. You probably have homework too."

Grayson offered a small nod. "Yeah, a lot."

Alex barely had time to call for the others before Julian stumbled in, massaging his arms dramatically. "Jogging was such a bad idea. My legs are going on strike."

Grayson smirked as Russell trailed in with Stray, who wagged her tail with excitement going to climb on Grayson's foot, he petted her rough and it seemed like she was smiling at him. "I'm starving," Russell announced, rubbing his hands together. "This better be good."

Alex served their plates, hanging up his apron as the boys dove in. Julian took the first bite and let out an exaggerated, "Delicieux!" while pinching his fingers like a cartoonish French chef. Russell nodded in approval.

"All hail Uncle Alex," he declared between mouthfuls.

Grayson tried the steak and shrugged, "Not bad. But Rosa's still the reigning champ." he sliced it and fed some to Stray that seemed to be asking for more.

The boys murmured in agreement, and Russell leaned back in his chair. "When's she coming back? We're struggling here."

Alex sighed lightly. "Not sure yet. We might need to find a temporary nanny."

Julian exchanged a quick look with his cousins. No words were needed; they all knew what that meant.

********

Later, with dinner done, Grayson returned to his room. He spread his schoolwork across the desk, determined to face the reality of his precarious situation. The looming threat of expulsion hovered over him like a storm cloud, but for once, he refused to bury the anxiety. He needed to deal with it.