Broken Hands

145. What's best for Grayson

Alex drew in a breath before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside.

Grayson was seated on his bed, an old diary in hand. His eyes met Alex's—dull, uninterested, but slightly alerted.

Alex hadn't failed to hear the harsh words Damien had thrown at Grayson. Too harsh. The kid had just gotten out—he didn't need that stress. But Damien was Damien, and Alex needed to set things straight.

Grayson looked gloomy. Not that he had looked any better since Alex saw him again. Not even a shadow of a smile.

That usual small spark in his eyes was gone, leaving behind an unsettling serenity.

Alex watched him, the psychiatrist's warning rolling through his mind, like a building wave.

Alex stepped forward, lowering the pill bottle onto the table. "Hey. Your pills."

Grayson reached for them, shaking out a few into his palm and downing them dry. Then he held the bottle back out. Alex took it.

He examined Grayson closely. Slightly skinnier. Absent. Like he wasn't fully there. Maybe it would get better once Julian and Russell were around.

For now, Julian was staying with his mother, who lived close to the hospital. And Alex wanted Grayson back in the castle, where their grandfather could keep an eye on him.

"Grayson."

Grayson looked up—just for a split second—but his eyes already held an expectation of another lecture.

Right.

He had snuck out. And almost got himself and Russell killed.

It was bad. Really bad. But he was just a teenager, and his past... God, his past. Alex understood.

Grayson had been through so much. Especially as a child—alone, without protection.

He was hurt. Really hurt.

Alex sat beside him.

Grayson shifted slightly, gripping the small diary tightly. "I know you're disappointed and mad. But I'm gonna make up for it as best as I can." His voice was blank, but there was an edge underneath, something carefully masked.

Alex let out a breath of a chuckle. "I'm not. No. I'm just happy you're back home. Alive. Healing."

Grayson looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly, as if testing the truth behind his words.

Alex nodded. "Yeah. And I want you to get better. To not pull stunts like that again. We were all scared, but trust me—we're all relieved that you're back."

He reached for Grayson's hand.

"You're gonna get better."

Grayson's features softened just a little. His grip on the diary loosened.

Alex took out his phone. "I got a text from a friend. She works at the shelter. They just brought in a collie pup." He turned the screen toward Grayson, showing him the picture.

A small border collie puppy stared back at them, its wide eyes filled with curiosity.

Grayson looked away slightly. "I don't need a pet," he said bluntly, his tone empty.

Alex felt a small pang in his chest but didn't push.

Before he could say anything else, the bell rang.

Grayson's gaze flickered toward the door, then back at Alex, as if expecting him to go answer it.

Alex sighed and stood, making his way downstairs.