Broken Hands

74. Alex and I

Grayson sat at his desk, the pages of his textbook blurring together as he tried—and failed—to focus. The words seemed meaningless, their once-clear logic swallowed by the thoughts that kept looping in his head.

Hera's voice echoed in his mind. The weight of her revelations pressed on him like an iron grip, squeezing out any chance of clarity. He was a target.

His hands curled into fists over the desk. He'd let his guard down, allowed Amber—Elizabeth—to get too close. He'd believed her pain, her sincerity, and she'd used it to her advantage. The betrayal burned in his chest like a flame that refused to die.

Grayson stared down at his homework, willing himself to focus, to drown out the noise in his head. But it was useless. The urge to confront Amber, to demand answers, gnawed at him with relentless intensity.

With a frustrated sigh, he reached for the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of pills. They always helped—when things got too loud, too overwhelming. He unscrewed the cap, shaking a few into his hand.

Before he could take them, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

"Grayson."

He froze, his body tensing as Alex's voice cut through the silence. Grayson looked up, trying to mask his unease as Alex stepped into the room, his movements casual but deliberate.

"Hey," Grayson said, forcing a calm tone as he placed the pills quickly in the bottle and set it down beside him.

Alex's eyes flicked to the bottle, then back to Grayson. "Have you eaten?" he asked, his voice steady, though something unspoken lingered beneath it.

Grayson hesitated. He tried to think back, but his mind came up blank. "Yeah, I guess."

"What did you eat?" Alex pressed, his gaze unwavering.

Grayson's mouth opened, then closed again. He couldn't answer.

Alex's expression didn't shift, but he moved closer, picking up the pill bottle with a chilling calm. Grayson braced himself, expecting a reprimand, but Alex's presence wasn't menacing. It was patient, deliberate, but hard.

"When did you get this?" Alex asked, his tone neutral as he examined the label.

Grayson swallowed hard. "Not long, I guess," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alex nodded slightly, though his frown deepened as he studied the label. "Grayson, you're recommended a very small dose each day," he said, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of concern.

"That's what I'm doing," Grayson replied quickly, his tone defensive.

Alex's gaze flicked to him, and Grayson felt the weight of his skepticism. Alex exhaled slowly, then said, "Fine. But this bottle should last at least a month—longer, if you're taking the right doses."

Grayson's eyes darted to the bottle in Alex's hand. He did the math in his head, and the truth hit him like a punch. At the rate he was going, the pills would be gone in two weeks, maybe less. He forced a nod, pushing the realization aside. "Yeah. Right."

Alex didn't look convinced, but he let it go, placing the bottle back on the desk.

After a beat of silence, Alex spoke again, his tone lighter. "Wanna help me make dinner?"

Grayson blinked, caught off guard by the shift. He glanced at the pile of homework on his desk, then back at Alex. The books felt like a lost cause; he wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway.

After a moment, he nodded. "Sure," he said, his voice quieter but less strained. Anything to distract himself and get away from his thoughts.

Alex gave him a small, reassuring smile before turning toward the door. Grayson stood, following him out of the room. The tension in his chest didn't disappear, but it dulled slightly. For now, that was enough.