Addiction| 18+

25| private jet

Hayley

I didn't expect the jet to feel so... normal.

I'd thought it would be intimidating or surreal or something I'd constantly be aware of, but once we were in the air, it just became another enclosed space. A quiet one. A controlled one. And maybe that was the part that unsettled me the most.

Grey took a call almost immediately after we sat in our seats.

He didn't even look surprised when the phone rang. Just reached for it like he'd been expecting it, shoulders already shifting into that version of himself I'd come to recognize—the one who didn't hesitate, didn't soften, didn't waste words.

I stayed quiet, not because he told me to. He didn't. But because it felt like the right thing to do. Like stepping into a room where someone was already mid-conversation and choosing not to interrupt.

His voice stayed low, even. Not cold. Just... precise.

"No."

Pause.

"That's not what we agreed on."

Another pause. His jaw tightened slightly, just enough for me to notice.

"Fix it."

I looked away, suddenly very interested in the sleek interior of the cabin. The stitched leather. The small table between us. A glass of water someone had already set down near my seat.

I shifted, tucking my legs up a little, pulling my hoodie closer around myself. I wasn't uncomfortable—I just didn't know where to put my energy. My thoughts kept bouncing, restless, like they were looking for something to latch onto.

Grey stayed on the phone.

One call ended. Another started.

Different voices this time. Different tone. Same Grey.

I wondered how many people needed him today. How many decisions he'd already made before we even left the ground. It made my chest feel tight in a way I didn't quite understand.

I tried distracting myself by scrolling through my phone, but nothing held my attention. Social media felt stupid. News headlines felt too loud. I locked my screen and set it aside, feeling oddly exposed without it.

I glanced at Grey again.

He leaned back slightly in his seat now, one ankle resting over his knee, free hand rubbing at his jaw as he listened. There was something intense about the way he focused—like the rest of the world didn't exist while someone was talking to him. I wondered if it ever did.

I wondered if he noticed things when he wasn't looking directly at them.

Like me, sitting next to him, trying not to overthink every small movement.

At some point, a flight attendant stepped in quietly. Grey shook his head once, still on the phone. She looked at me questioningly. I nodded for water, murmuring a thank-you that felt too loud in the quiet cabin.

I took small sips, letting the cold ground me.

My thoughts drifted, uninvited, back to therapy. To the way my therapist kept telling me that silence didn't have to mean danger. That quiet could just be quiet.

This felt like a test.

Grey shifted slightly, and his elbow came close to mine—not touching, just near enough that I noticed. My body reacted before my brain caught up, a sharp flicker of tension tightening my shoulders.

I hated that reaction. Hated how automatic it was.

Nothing happened.

He didn't move closer. Didn't pull away. Didn't even glance in my direction. Slowly, my body realized it was okay again. I exhaled without meaning to do so.

Another call came through. Grey ended one and answered the next without a pause.

"How long?" he asked.

Pause.

"Then we're changing the timeline."

I wondered what it would be like to speak that decisively. To say something and have it simply... happen.

The thought made me tired. Not emotionally. Just tired.

I leaned my head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling, counting the tiny lights embedded above us. My eyes traced patterns I made up on the spot, anything to keep my mind from spiraling.

It worked for a while.

Then my eyelids started to droop.

I tried to stay awake. Straightened up. Shifted in my seat. Took another sip of water.

Grey was still talking. Still calm. Still focused somewhere else.

I wasn't scared anymore. That realization surprised me.

Nervous, sure. A little unsettled. But not afraid.

Sleep crept in slowly, like it didn't want to startle me. My thoughts softened, edges blurring. My body sank deeper into the seat.

My head tipped to the side before I could stop it. I caught myself halfway, heart jumping, and froze. Unsure if I should pull back or pretend it hadn't happened.

Grey didn't move.

Didn't pause his call. Didn't react at all.

So I stayed.

My head rested lightly against his shoulder, barely there, like I was testing whether the moment was real. He stayed steady, solid, his voice continuing calmly as if nothing had changed.

And something in me finally let go.

I didn't fall asleep all at once. It came in layers. The tightness in my shoulders easing. My breathing slowing. The constant awareness I carried fading into something quieter.

Grey's voice became distant, then indistinct. Just sound, not words. For once, my mind didn't fight it.
For once, I didn't jerk awake or panic or pull away.

I just... rested next to him.

***

End of chapter 25!! This story is so long holy moly. I generally wonder when I'm going to start pushing things along. I just can't do it yet... I'm in love with the slow burns