Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
The words in front of me blur together, refusing to make sense as I sit on my couch, staring blankly at the open book in my lap. I’ve read the same paragraph five times now, but I can’t focus. My mind races with thoughts of Grey, the hurt in my chest is a constant ache, impossible to ignore.
Not for the first time since I deactivated him, I find myself wishing Jamie was here. At least he’d talk to me, distract me from this endless loop of hurt and anger swirling in my head.
And tempting them with him doesn’t matter anymore anyway.
They broke my trust.
Again.
They told me they were done watching. And maybe they are, but isn’t tracking my location without my knowledge just as bad? Okay, maybe not quite as invasive as being watched when I think I’m alone, but it’s still a massive overstep.
Grey overstepped.
I know it’s in his nature, this protective instinct born from trauma. A well-deserved trauma, one I understand.
But still.
He should have told me.
If he’d just said he’d feel better being able to check where I am at all times, I would have shared my location with him myself.
I close the book with a sigh, giving up on the pretense of reading.
My fingers itch to grab my phone, to call Grey and sort this out, but the betrayal is too fresh.
The hurt is still there, a dull ache in my chest, but it’s mingled with worry now.
It’s been hours since I stormed off, and I haven’t heard a peep from Grey, which isn’t like him at all.
I told him to keep away, sure, but I didn’t actually expect him to listen.
It’s Grey.
A small, reluctant smile tugs at my lips. Stubborn, overprotective Grey, actually respecting my boundaries for once. It should make me happy, but instead, it just makes me anxious.
Where is he?
Is he okay?
I realize with a start that I want to know.
I want that stupid tracking app on my phone, but I want it on his too.
Because this isn’t a one-way street. I worry about him just as much as he worries about me.
The anger starts to ebb, replaced by understanding.
We need to talk about this, set some ground rules that work for both of us.
Find a way to keep Grey’s demons at bay without making me feel like my privacy is being invaded.
I let out a shaky breath, finally admitting to myself what I’ve known all along. These men—Grey, Misha, Oliver—they have as much power over me as I do over them.
Maybe more.
So much for being in control.
A faint knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I walk over, checking the ring camera to see who’s outside. Grey stands there with his back to the door, Peanut sitting patiently next to him.
Does he want to go on a walk and talk it out?
I’m not opposed to that idea.
So, I open the door, arms crossed over my chest, ready to give him a piece of my mind. He deserves to get yelled at a little before we make up.
But when Grey turns around, his eyes are puffy and red, tears streaming down his face. My heart clenches painfully at the sight.
Oh my God.
“Grey…” I gasp as I surge forward, grabbing his forearms, “… what happened?”
“Grandpa,” Grey presses out, but then a sob escapes him, and I pull him and Peanut inside and close the door behind them.
Peanut pads into the room without a fuss, not even acknowledging me, as if he’s feeling sad too. When Grey lets go of the leash, Peanut heads over to the living room as if he’s been here before.
“Grey,” I start again, wanting to ask what happened, but he breaks out into fresh tears and pulls me into a tight hug. His sobs wrack his body, and I can feel his pain as if it were my own, my eyes welling up too.
Please let Mr. Donovan be fine.
I wrap my arms around Grey, holding him close. “Shh,” I whisper softly against his ear. “I’ve got you.”
His grip tightens as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. Peanut jumps up onto the sofa and lies down with a heavy sigh, watching us with sad eyes.
“Tell me,” I murmur after a moment of silence passes between us.
Grey takes a shuddering breath, trying to compose himself enough to speak.
“He had… he had a stroke,” he manages to say through his tears.
“They… they don’t know…” My heart aches for him as he breaks down again, crying into my shoulder.
I hold him tighter and rub his back, offering what little comfort I can.
His body shakes beneath my touch as he chokes out, “I’m so sorry.
I know you hate me right now, but I didn’t know where else to go.
I need you.” His raw vulnerability catches me off guard, my heart clenching at the sight of this usually stoic man falling apart in my arms.
“I’m here, and I could never hate you,” I assure him, my own anxiety mounting. “I’m here, okay?”
Grey’s composure crumbles entirely. “It was a severe one, and they were only able to save him because he was already at the hospital for the check-up.”
He’s alive.
Thank you, universe.
“Did you go see him?” I manage to croak out.
Grey nods, and guilt pools in my stomach.
He shouldn’t have had to do that alone.
“How is he?” I ask, bracing myself for the answer, my hand instinctively finding Grey’s and squeezing it tightly.
His hand trembles in mine, and I see the struggle in his eyes as he searches for the right words. “He’s somewhat stable now,” Grey finally manages. “But they don’t know the full extent of the damage yet. He’s unconscious, and they’re running tests.”
Please, Mr. Donovan, don’t do this to us.
I pull Grey closer again, wrapping my arms around him once more. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
He buries his face in my shoulder, his body shaking. I’ve never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and broken. It shows how much his grandfather means to him. “Just… can I stay with you, please?” he asks, muffled against my shirt.
“Of course,” I assure him, running my fingers up and down his back. “You can stay as long as you need. And I’ll be by your side no matter what happens next. You’re not alone in this.”
We stand there for a long moment, holding each other in the dim light of my apartment.
I feel Grey’s heartbeat gradually slowing, his breathing becoming more even as he calms down.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask, pulling back just enough to look at Grey’s face.
His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but there’s a flicker of gratitude in them.
He nods, and I take his hand and lead him to the couch. We settle down next to Peanut, and I keep hold of his hand, offering silent support.
Grey takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “I should’ve been there,” he whispers. “I’ve been so caught up in work and… everything else. I haven’t visited him as much as I should have.”
Everything else, also known as me and my problems.
Shit.
If anything, I’m the one to blame.
“Hey, shh. This is not your fault, okay? And Morgan was there. He wasn’t alone,” I reassure him softly.
Grey nods, but he looks so defeated, tears still flowing down his cheeks.
“Come here,” I say, guiding him down so he lays with his head in my lap.
Peanut lays his head on my other side while I start to stroke Grey’s forehead and play with his hair.
He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, while he fiddles with his watch, and I ask curiously, “Is that your grandpa’s watch? ”
He nods, explaining, “I gave him my smartwatch because it has a fall detector. In return, Grandpa wanted me to wear his. It always feels like a talisman.” I continue to stroke his hair, and gradually, he relaxes until the tears stop making their silent way down his cheeks.
“I’m so glad I introduced you to him,” Grey says softly after a long while.
“When I was in high school, I once told Grandpa about a girl I liked. He asked me what color her eyes were, and I said I didn’t know.
He said if I couldn’t tell him the color of her eyes, he didn’t want to hear about her because my heart wasn’t in the right place.
” I smile sadly, thinking about Mr. Donovan and how he always has the best advice, twirling a strand of Grey’s hair.
After another long while, Grey whispers, “I could describe the color of yours for hours with my own closed.”
He opens his eyes then, looking up at me with so much longing it makes my heart ache. “Grey…” I begin, but he reaches up and grasps my hand that was stroking his hair, bringing my palm to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there.
“You know what I thought the first time I saw you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “She looks just like the Sim I created in middle school.”
I huff out a laugh. “Thank you?”
Grey sits up but stays close, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek, so warm on my skin, and I lean into the touch. “You’re my dream girl, Amelia. Brain, soul, looks, sass. All of it. And I can’t seem to stop messing up. You deserve all the good in the world, and it seems like all I do is fuck up.”
“I don’t want somebody who gives me all the good,” I tell him earnestly. “I want something real, something where we both can make mistakes but still know that the other will stay. I’m not perfect either. And I don’t want to be scared of you leaving me because I fuck up a little from time to time.”
Grey’s eyes soften, but there’s still a hint of worry there. “True, but you’re going to walk away if I can’t figure out my problems. I have to figure out how to handle this, handle giving you your space.”
“But I could help you with it,” I offer, for him but for me too. “Let’s share our location, all of us, so we can see where everyone is.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You’d do that?”
“Of course, I would if it helps you. Knowing you’re safe would help me too. This fight isn’t about you wanting or needing to know if I’m fine or where I am. It’s about you not telling me that you had a tracker installed. It’s about you wanting trust while you still had secrets.”