Broken Hands

104. Damien says "NO"

The silence in the study was heavy and did no good to Grayson. He shifted in his seat, glancing at the empty spot where Julian had rested his head on his arm earlier. He missed its small warmth and weight. These meetings with Alex and Damien always felt like walking into a trap—never-ending well. Still, Grayson had been waiting for this chance, the opportunity to tell them about the race. He needed their support, hated the lies, the pretending, the hiding, too much anxiety.

The urge to fall back into old habits gnawed at him. He'd tried to buy another bottle of pills but couldn't bring himself to go through with it. He'd promised them he wouldn't. Alex and Damien didn't want him hooked. Grayson understood that; he really did. But they didn't get how deep it ran. It had been three days without the pills, and he couldn't focus. Sleep was impossible—he'd jolt awake within an hour, drenched in cold sweat. The new pills? Placebos, he was sure. Candy disguised as meds. He was stupid.

Leaning back in his chair, he tilted his head toward the ceiling. His thoughts drifted to the feeling of riding again. That freedom, that rush of adrenaline—it was the one thing that made sense. Thrilling, extraordinary, and just out of reach.

His eyes shifted to the window, then to his desk. The files on Charlie's old device still needed his attention. He wasn't even halfway done. He wondered if Damien had cracked into the device yet and knew the full story. That thought made him uneasy. Maybe he'd sneak into the attic later and finish what he started.

The sound of the door creaking snapped him out of his thoughts. Alex walked in, his steps measured, his expression soft. Grayson didn't acknowledge him at first, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, before finally breaking the silence with a muttered, "If it's about the pills, they're finished."

Alex stopped, slipping his hands into his khaki pants pockets. "It's not about that."

Grayson sat up, wary. "Then it's about boot camp?"

"No, but on that note, you never mentioned it to me," Alex said, his tone laced with a hint of disappointment.

Grayson looked away, shrugging. "I guess I forgot. With everything going on, I thought Damien told you."

Alex moved to sit behind the desk, his sharp gaze never leaving Grayson. "I see. You look pale."

Grayson smirked faintly, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I always look pale."

Alex met his eyes, holding the contact. "You're not going to any boot camp. That's a no from me."

Grayson's brows furrowed, confusion etching into his features. "And Uncle Damien?"

Alex leaned back in the chair, "He dropped it long ago."

Grayson blinked, stunned. "He did?"

"Yes," Damien's deep voice cut in from the doorway. Grayson turned, spotting him as he stepped inside, his presence as commanding as ever. The slight growth of Damien's hair softened his usually severe demeanor, but only slightly.

Grayson studied him, questions swirling in his head. Damien seemed to pick up on it instantly. "You've been trying, Grayson. You've stuck to the rules, stayed out of trouble, or at least tried to. You've put in the effort not to spiral. And besides," Damien added, his voice taking on a weighty tone, "Father wants to meet you this summer."

Grayson froze. His grandfather. He'd heard about this meeting before, but now it felt tangible. The thought of facing Senior Smith made his stomach churn. What if he goes 'You should have died along with your mother!' or 'Bloody hell you look just like him, don't you? A raccoon!"

Alex's hand on his shoulder grounded him, pulling him from the storm of his thoughts. "Grayson, it's going to be fine," Alex said, his voice warm and reassuring.