Part-21

Becker’s POV…

I hear noise from downstairs like glass shattering. This can’t be good. Jack must be out of his mind again. “Alec, stay in your room,” I try and shout but the words don’t come out. I rub my throat with my fingers, It feels like something is lodged in my windpipe. Another glass shatters… I’ve got to check it out. “Please sir, just leave him alone,” a scared but familiar voice says. Greya! No! I run to where the noise is coming from. “Where is that bastard child?” Jack yells in her face and grabs her by the throat, choking her. “No! Greya!” Nothing, not a sound escapes my mouth, she can’t hear me. She turns her head towards me, her freightened emeralds pleading for my help. “Beck!….Beck,” she’s calling my name. “Beck!” I hear it louder.

“Becker, wake up,” her voice causes me to bolt upright. Searing pain surges through the right side of my chest, forcing me back to reality. My hand grips my side, and my lungs constrict so I’m unable to catch my breath. Where the fuck am I?

“Hey, you’re ok, it was just a dream.” I hear her again and whip my head around towards her which causes me more intense pain. Greya!… She better not be hurt.

She’s here sitting in front of me, she’s fine I think. Unsure of what’s real and what’s not, I reach out and place my fingers under her chin to tilt her head up and examine her neck for any sign of injury. Her expression is one of confusion, but she doesn’t say anything while I continue to examine her. I don’t care how much pain I’m in, as long as she’s not hurt.

I look down and she’s holding her hand out to me, so I tentatively reach for it. I slide my hand into hers and she gives mine a little squeeze, forcing my lungs to fill with air again. “I’m ok B… Alec is ok,” she looks towards the kitchen and I follow her gaze to where Alec and Chase are eating breakfast together and laughing about something. That makes me smile for a moment before turning back to Greya. I was dreaming. Fuck, I must look like I’ve gone completely mental. She looks like she wants to comfort me but isn’t sure of how. That’s my dumb fault. ”I’m sorry,” I try to force my hoarse voice to form the words.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Here, I made you some tea with honey, it will help soothe your throat,” she grabs the mug from the coffee table and hands it to me. “Thanks,” I cough.

“Do you have nightmares often?” She shyly asks. I want to tell her I’d have them every night if I didn’t force myself to stay awake most of the time. Greya doesn’t need to know that though, I’ve already frightened her enough over the last nine hours.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I croak while pushing up on the pillow to support myself to a standing position.

“Sure, you know where it is. There are towels by the sink if you want to take a shower… do you need any help?” Do I need her help? Probably. I’ve already let her do too much. Now I’m nothing short of fragile and pathetic.

I avoid speaking and shake my head, showing her I don’t need her assistance.

I shuffle at a snail’s pace into the bathroom and shut the door. A hot shower will feel good. I turn the water on and begin unwrapping the ace bandage from my torso. The pain in my ribs exacerbate when I move my right arm, but it’s not as painful as last night. Maybe it’s just bruised.

I drop the wrap onto the sink and examine myself in the mirror. There are noticeable finger markings on the sides of my throat where Jack tried to strangle me. The right side of my chest about a hand’s width below my arm pit is back and blue. I really hope nothing’s broken.

I step into the shower and let the hot water pour over my head and down my back. The heat is helping to loosen my tight muscles. I grab the nearest shampoo bottle and as soon as I open it, I’m intoxicated by the smell of apples. My mind immediately drifts to Greya. She knows my secrets now and she didn’t turn away, instead she took us in and cared for me. No one has taken care of me in so long, I forgot what it was like. It felt good, it felt like maybe I matter. What does she really think of me though? I’m broken beyond repair, and can only pray Greya doesn’t see me that way too.

Selfishly, I’ve let her into my life, there’s no going back, the damage is done. Letting her in was wrong in so many ways. She’s already been through so much, yet she is so strong, stronger than I will ever be. Now that I’ve felt her, I know that I need her. Her touch is my only comfort, I crave it as well as fear it. My mind is so fucked up that my body still rejects her. God am I trying not to though.

There’s no way she would ever want to be with someone like me. How can anyone be with someone who can’t tolerate anything physical? At least I got a glimpse of what it’s like to be cared for last night, it’s better than never experiencing it at all I guess.

Finally, I finish lathering my hair, doing the best I can with one hand. I can barely lift my right arm enough to get soap under my armpit without wanting to scream.

After turning off the water and patting myself dry with a towel, I contemplate how I’m going to manage getting dressed. Thankfully, Alec was able to grab a bag of clothes for us before we came here last night. Sweatpants are easy to slip on but now I’m going to need help with the ace bandage.

I make my way back downstairs, carrying a t-shirt and the ace wrap in one hand and try to find Greya. She’s in the kitchen making something in a blender, so she doesn’t hear me come in. My voice is strained so I silently wait for her to finish.

This is an opportune time to admire her. Her long silky hair flowing down to the tiny cotton shorts she’s wearing. My eyes roam down her long athletic legs. She’s perfect in every way.

The blender stops, so I stop drooling over her gorgeous body and adjust my sweatpants. I attempt to clear my throat, but it sounds more like a high pitched cough.

Greya turns around, holding two tall glasses of thick pink liquid. “Hey, how are you feeling after your shower?”

“Better,” My voice now resembles a harsh whisper.

” I didn’t know how your throat would handle food, so I made us some smoothies,” she hands me one of the tall glasses.

“Thanks,” I smile at her.

“Do you think you could wrap this around me again?” I hold out the ace wrap.

“Yeah, of course.” She takes it from my hand and stands in front of me. My heart begins to beat faster the closer she moves to my body. My twitching hand places the glass on the counter next to me so I don’t drop it. She notices that I prefer to keep my right arm bent and held across my chest. My ribs don’t hurt as much that way.

Greya’s green eyes watch me intently, a worried expression etched upon her face when I painfully lift my right arm ever so slightly for her to apply the wrap. I’m already a shaking mess when she grazes my skin with her fingers, and the pain only makes everything worse.

She pauses half way, still holding most of the wrap. There may as well be steam coming from her pretty little head with her thinking so hard. “I’m going to wrap your arm snug to your body so you don’t have to worry about holding it there. It seems more comfortable for you that way,” she says.

“I will only have one arm then,” I manage to say a little louder.

“You don’t need your other arm today. You are resting while the boys and I take care of you.”

What! No.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Love.”

“You don’t have to…we want to,” she says and I look out the window to see Chase and Alec playing around.

“I think Chase is trying to teach Alec some soccer skills,” she chuckles while wrapping my arm against my chest with the wrap.

“There, how does it feel?”

“It feels good, less painful this way,” I admit.

She holds up my t-shirt while I slip my left arm through the sleeve and lift the shirt over my head. Greya helps me pull it down over my wrapped arm and when she pulls the shirt down my back, I feel her skin slide over mine again, causing my body to shiver. The feeling is foreign to me, yet I don’t fully dislike it.

Her hand moves away quickly. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes for something that’s not her fault. My body hasn’t quite figured out how to respond to her, or my mind. All I know is that I wish I could capture her soft plump lips with mine and feel her arms around me without freaking out.

“Want to drink your smoothie out on the patio so we can hang out with the boys?” She interrupts my thoughts.

I nod and grab my glass, following her outside. We sit at a small table, watching the boys kick a ball around. Alec spots me and jogs over. ” Hey big bro, how are you feeling?”

“Better than last night,” I tell him.

“Well we are staying here all weekend. Greya makes us chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Yes, Greya makes the best pancakes,” Chase chimes in. I silently chuckle at them.

I give Greya a look and she shuts me down immediately. “You’re staying the weekend to recover, no refusing,” she tries to be stern with me.

“I don’t want to impose, Love, I’ve already caused you enough trouble,” I begin coughing. My voice isn’t ready to argue with her.

“You’re not any trouble, and Chase enjoys having Alec here.”

I want to ask her if she enjoys having, me here. I’m sure listening to my awful voice and looking at my battered torso is really enjoyable.

” Come on, it’s Marvel marathon day,” Chase shouts while dragging Alec inside with him.

Greya shrugs her shoulders and follows behind them.

“Alec, let’s make the popcorn!” Chase excitedly fetches the popcorn bowls.

“I love this kid… I can’t believe all the things he can do without seeing anything,” I hear Alec say to Greya.

“Just make sure he doesn’t burn the popcorn,” she laughs.

It takes me a few minutes to get comfortable on the couch while waiting for everyone to join me. Greya appears first with a mug in one hand and an ice pack in the other.

She places the mug on the coffee table and then moves a pillow to my right side. Everything she does around me is slow and calculated, like she’s afraid of how I’ll react. I’m ashamed of myself for making her feel that way. “This will hold the ice pack to your ribs,” she answers after I realize I’m staring at the pillow.

“And here’s another cup of tea. I’m sure popcorn isn’t going to be very soothing for your throat,” she shrugs, then hands me the mug.

“Sit with me. Please,” I softly plead. My mind is so unstable right now, and all of my insecurities are on full display. All I know is that I need her next to me.

She cautiously sits down on the cushion next to me at the same time as Chase barrels into the living room and starts feeling around the couch for blankets and pillows. He finds two pillows and a thick blanket and throws them onto the floor in front of us. Alec strolls into the room with two big bowls of popcorn and watches Chase make an area for them to sit with the pillows and blanket.

“Come on Alec, I made us a seat,” Chase happily states as he jumps up and down on the pillows.

This kid is hysterical and I find myself laughing while clutching my ribs at the same time. Greya and Alec join in on the laughter, making my whole mood brighter.

“Ah, laughing hurts,” I continue to giggle and cry.

Chase surprises me once more by finding the TV remote from brushing his hand around the coffee table. “The Hulk,” he presses a button and speaks.

“Yes!!” Alec cheers and causes the biggest smile to appear on Chase’s face. “You like the Hulk too?” Chase is beyond excited that they are both fans of the big green guy. Watching these too having fun together melts my heart. Times like these remind me that Alec is still a kid and it’s ok to act like one.

“How does he watch TV,” I lowly whisper into Greya’s ear. It might be a weird question, but I’m curious.

“He loves listening to action movies, especially this one, and since he’s never seen the picture, the voices and the loud sounds are his favorite parts,” Greya looks over at Chase with pure admiration.

The ice pack is melting, so I place it on the end table beside me and sit back, sipping the warm cup of tea. The four of us enjoying a movie together; something I haven’t experienced since I was a child.

Besides the nagging pain in my side, I feel strangely happy and I owe all this, no matter how short lived, to Greya.

Part-22

Greya’s POV…

The sharp pain in my neck jolts me awake. The TV still glows faintly in front of me, some old movie murmuring in the background. I rub my eyes, trying to blink away the blur, and that’s when I feel the weight against my right shoulder.

It takes me a moment to register the scene: the four of us passed out in the living room. Alec’s sprawled on the floor in a nest of blankets. Chase is using Alec’s stomach as a pillow. And beside me, Becker is asleep—his head resting on my shoulder.

I don’t dare move. He looks peaceful, and God knows he needs it. Slowly, I reach toward the end of the couch, grab a few pillows, and tuck them behind my neck until the ache eases. Everyone else seems comfortable. I close my eyes again.

It feels like seconds later when laughter pulls me from sleep. The TV is off now, the morning light filling the room. I’m stretched out on my side, tucked under a blanket. How I ended up like this without waking up is a mystery. The room’s spotless—popcorn gone, blankets folded neatly on the edge of the sofa.

I stand, fold my own blanket, and walk out to the patio. The sight that greets me makes my heart swell.

Alec’s on the swing, laughing so hard he’s nearly doubled over, while Chase and Becker are near the soccer net.

Becker’s wearing a blindfold, trying to juggle the ball. His right arm’s still pressed protectively to his ribs as his feet swipe at the air.

My instinct is to tell him to take it easy—but he looks happy. He knows his limits better than anyone.

“Dude, you’re supposed to feel for the ball,” Chase calls.

“Well, I don’t feel anything at all,” Becker grunts, earning another round of laughter from Alec.

Then Becker manages to connect—and the ball smacks Chase square in the shoulder.

“Hey! It’s not nice to hit a blind kid,” Chase shoots back.

“Shit—I mean, crap! Sorry!” Becker blurts, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“I’m only kidding,” Chase chuckles, shaking his head.

“I love this kid,” Alec calls out. “Becker, I thought you were supposed to be good at soccer!”

“Shut up!” Becker laughs, tugging off the blindfold and walking toward me.

Behind him, Alec starts tossing a soft football with Chase. I’m quietly impressed—Alec’s already figured out how to help without making Chase feel helpless.

Becker stops beside me. “I don’t know how he does everything without sight,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t last an hour.”

“It’s all he knows,” I say. “It’s natural for him.”

He nods, then winces slightly. His arm is still clutched against his ribs. “You’re still holding your side,” I say. “Need more ice?”

“Just feels better this way,” he says. Then, with a faint grin: “But look—full range of motion.” He lifts his arm over his head, slow and careful, then lets it fall again.

I frown. “Becker…”

“I’m fine, love,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Don’t think they’re broken.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitates, then lifts the hem of his shirt. The bruising is fading—yellow edges where blue and purple once were. Healing, slowly. My gaze lingers a moment too long, tracing the contrast of light and shadow across his skin before meeting his eyes.

Those eyes—dark blue threaded with light—catch mine and hold. For a heartbeat, everything I’ve been worrying about dissolves. His lips part slightly, and I wonder what it would feel like to close the space between us.

“We need to go back home today.”

The words hit like a slap. “What?”

He can’t go back. Not yet. Not there. My mind spins through every reason it’s too dangerous.

He reaches out, taking both my hands in his. “Alec and I need to go back,” he says, voice low but steady. “We can’t hide out here forever.”

He’s right, and yet I hate that he is. I want them to stay—somewhere safe, somewhere I can see him breathe without pain—but life isn’t that simple.

“I’m worried about you both,” I admit.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, like it’s fact. Like I should believe him.

My fingers twitch in his grasp. I can’t meet his eyes. He needs me to be strong, the way he’s been strong for everyone else. Before I can summon the mask, he pulls me into his arms.

My first instinct is to hold him tight and never let go. But when I feel him draw in a breath and hold it—bracing—I stop. He’s the one comforting me. When was the last time anyone held him at all?

Slowly, I slide my arms around him, barely touching at first. He doesn’t flinch. Progress, I think. Maybe I can teach him to feel safe again.

He exhales finally, a warm rush against my hair, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back.

“Thanks, love. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

And just like that, the spell breaks. He turns toward the house. “Let’s go, Alec!”

Alec jogs over, fist-bumps Chase, then stops in front of me. He looks like he wants a hug but doesn’t know how to ask for one.

“Anytime, Alec,” I tell him softly. “If you need to come here, or call me, you do it. Okay?”

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for…everything.”

I watch them leave, the ache in my chest settling somewhere deep, somewhere I don’t quite want to name.

Part-23

Becker’s POV…

Safety. Comfort. Both concepts feel foreign to me, yet that’s exactly what I felt when Greya wrapped her arms loosely around my back. She could sense my held breath, my racing heart, my fear and uncertainty.

Hesitant at first, anticipating how I might react, she hugged me anyway. I wanted to wipe the worry from her face, so I embraced her, knowing my fucked-up brain wouldn’t know how to handle what came next.

This wasn’t the first time she’d hugged me. After my embarrassed reactions to the last few, I thought she’d never attempt it again. But she didn’t care about the consequences; she knew what I really needed—her. Her sweet, comforting scent, like apple pie. I’m getting better at accepting her touch.

Having her worry about me, take care of me this past weekend, felt surreal. The only other person who’d cared for me like that was my mother—and she left. Left us to fend off a monster alone. How could someone you trust, someone who says they love you, just walk out when you need them most? She said the words, then disappeared.

Things at home were already bad, and mom knew our father would turn on me next—but she bolted anyway. Just like I fear Greya will do when she learns the whole truth. I’ve come to believe I don’t deserve to be loved.

When Alec and I returned home, the house was a disaster. Empty alcohol bottles littered the couch; another bottle lay shattered across the tile. Alec shot me that look—run. But running doesn’t solve anything.

The house was eerily quiet. Jack was either passed out or gone. We tiptoed through each room, hoping not to find him. Alec exhaled in relief when the coast was clear, then retreated to his room. I spent the next few hours cleaning the remnants of the drunken hurricane that had ravaged our home.

Everything was nearly spotless, except for the dining room. Piles of papers covered the oak table. I would’ve ignored Jack’s work, except a particular document with my name drew my attention: California Certificate of Adoption.

What the fuck is this?

The paper read: Adoptee, Becker Jonas Reeves, legal adoptive child of Jack Allen Reeves, dated when I was two years old.

I frantically rifled through the other papers, finding my birth certificate. My mother’s name alone, no father listed. Jack isn’t my biological father? What about Alec?

His birth certificate shows both Mom and Jack listed.

Fuck.

I grabbed the adoption certificate, shoved it into my pocket, and retreated to the one room in this house that brings me peace.

I sat at the velvet piano bench, letting my fingers glide over the keys. Anger, confusion, and loneliness wove together into emotional chord progressions. Bittersweet.

My music, my one inherited gift, came from the person who gave up on our family—on me.

Hours later, I blink awake. Darkness surrounds me. If Jack finds me here, it won’t just be a beating. I’ve always wondered why he left this room alone. Maybe he hopes my mother will return someday.

If it weren’t for his violence, I might almost feel sorry for him. Did he adopt me willingly, or have I always been the inconvenient piece of trash he treats me like? Did my mother leave because of me… or because of Jack?

“Becker, I made pizza if you’re hungry,” Alec says, tentatively, in the doorway.

I check my phone: 10:00 PM. “Yeah, sure. Thanks,” I croak.

Ensuring the door is closed, I trudge to the kitchen. No sign of Jack. Hopefully he stays away for a few days. I need time—time to recover my ribs, time to focus on my last soccer game before playoffs.

My phone chimes. One missed call and a text from Greya, another from Cohen.

Greya: Hey B, just wondering how you’re feeling? See you in class tomorrow x

A small smile tugs at my lips. Her subtle way of checking in, making sure I’m okay. I’m far from okay. I want to hold her, feel her hold me. Around her, I feel… safe. If only my brain would cooperate with my body.

A relationship with her? Wishful thinking. She’ll realize I’m not worth it. For now, I take what I can get.

Me: Hey Love, feeling much better thanks to you. See you tomorrow x

Three little dots appear—she’s typing—but then vanish. Nothing. What I wish for is never meant to be.

The only consolation in this screwed-up life is knowing Alec is safe. Jack would never touch his real son as long as I’m around.

Part-24

Becker’s POV…

To my relief, Jack hasn’t been home for the last three days. It’s Wednesday, and I’m skipping school with Declan and Cohen to support Greya at her guardianship hearing for Chase.

Greya and I haven’t spoken much this week. Not that we’re avoiding each other—we’ve both been busy: soccer practices, Greya preparing for today. She’s nervous but excited. After today, she’ll be Chase’s legal guardian, free from the constant worry of child services. I’m happy for her—that’s what she wants—but I can’t ignore the sacrifices she makes for her brother. She’s the most selfless person I know. I admire her more than I can say.

The three of us quietly take a seat in the back of the courtroom with Fynn and Ari. Greya, Chase, and Cohen’s parents are up at the front, speaking to the judge. The words of the guardianship paperwork float over me, precise and legal, yet I can’t help picturing my mother standing up there, cradling a two-year-old me as she asks Jack to adopt me. I haven’t told anyone—Greya, Cohen, Declan—about what I found. I’m waiting for Jack to come home so he can explain it first.

The hearing is successful. We celebrate at Greya’s house before soccer practice. Fynn orders pizza—Chase’s favorite—and the rest of us hang out in the backyard.

Greya’s eyes linger on me just a moment too long. Ari nudges her, teasing. “You really like him, don’t you?”

We both look away, me pretending I didn’t hear. I want to know her answer, but they walk further away.

“Becker, wanna juggle?” Chase tosses a ball toward me.

“How’d you know it was me?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You have a certain smell, like mint gum.”

“Oh,” I reply. Good to know.

“Okay, how about you keep learning to juggle with your eyes closed?” he grins.

“Sure… but it might take all day,” I tease.

After forty-five minutes, my ribs ache. Blindfold juggling is impossible. Chase runs off to find Fynn, so I collapse into a patio chair. Greya notices and joins me, concern in her voice. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good… a little sore,” I lie. She doesn’t need to worry. She has enough to manage. My role is to be strong, to show her I can be her rock.

“So… what were you and Ari talking about earlier?” I try to tease her, to crack open her feelings.

Her cheeks flush pink. Shy Greya is cute. “Come on, Love, you can tell me,” I smirk and slide my chair closer. My knee barely touches hers, and a pleasant shiver shoots up my leg. She doesn’t speak, but she places her hand on my thigh—and squeezes.

A jolt of heat erupts through me. I glance at her hand, then at her face, stunned. The desire in her eyes answers my unanswered question. I move my hand over hers, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

She slides her hand under mine, lacing our fingers together.

“Hmmm,” a voice clears. Cohen stands there, observing our joined hands.

“Umm… we need to get going so we can make it to practice on time,” he says. I nod. Declan joins him.

“We’ll be waiting in the car,” he adds, and they disappear inside.

Greya releases my hand and rises. I wasn’t ready for her to let go. Doubt floods back, threatening to drown me.

Desperate, I reach for her again. “May I come over later tonight? I really need to talk to you.”

“Of course, B. Anytime,” she replies with a warm smile. I lean forward, pressing a small kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks, Love.”

As I walk away, she teases me. “Beck, please be careful with your ribs at practice. I want to be able to score more goals than you on Friday—fair and square.”

That’s my girl.

Practice goes well. I take it easy, as Greya suggested, though the coach isn’t thrilled. Noticing me clutching my ribs occasionally, he finally backs off.

When I return home, Alec is relieved: Jack is still gone. I can safely leave Alec alone while I go see Greya.

The hours away from her have been torturous. I can’t stop thinking about her. The feel of her fingers brushing my cheek… the warmth, the subtle intimacy. I feel wanted, happy. All I care about is protecting her and making her happy.

But I wonder: can I give her what she needs? I’ve never been loved—hell, I barely know what it is. How can Greya love someone who can’t be touched, who recoils at intimacy? My body knows only pain. What happens when she wants more—kisses, closeness, sleeping beside me?

I trust her. I want to be with her. I pray she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t run.

Part-25

Greya’s POV…

Today my friend’s and I made lemonade. With the help of Cohen’s parents, I was granted guardianship of Chase; one less obstacle to tackle. I seem to have gained three more close friends who regularly want to be around me and support me. And, I felt a shift between Becker and I…a good shift.

We should probably talk about what we feel for each other, get it out in the open so we can move on to the next step. I’ve never been in a relationship before, I’ve never even been on a date or kissed a guy. This is all new and exciting to me, yet scary at the same time. Becker has a lot of unresolved issues and PTSD from all the physical abuse he’s endured over the years. He’s petrified of anyone touching him, and who can blame him when he’s only ever associated it with hurt. I care about him, a lot. I also want to protect him from ever being hurt again. I have plenty of baggage too, I’m practically a mother at 18 to a special needs child. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do from here. Slowly and carefully is the only way to conquer the next step.

Ari let me in on a little secret of hers today as well, which also makes me happy. Not that Declan was keeping it a secret the way he slapped her butt when he ran by her in my yard today. A huge grin plastered to both of their faces. “Umm, when did this happen?” I wave my finger between the two of them. “Last weekend when you were shacking up here with Becker, Declan asked me on a date. So, we went to the movies and then out to breakfast the next morning. Oh, and he kissed me!” She beams.

“Yes! About time!” I hug her.

“What about you and stormy over there? I know you like him so what are you waiting for?”

I feel myself blush when I look over at him playing ball with Chase. “I do like him,” I admit to her.

“He’s been in love with you for years Grey, it’s about time you two do something about it,” she chuckles.

I’d like to argue with her but as I think about it and all of the ways he’s tried to interact with me, I know she’s right. Becker does care about me. His ways of showing it are a little unconventional, but it’s probably the only way he knows how, considering everything he’s been through.

“Well? What are you going to do about it?” She presses me further.

“Becker is a complicated person,” is all I say.

“Well, no shit! We all see that. But if anyone knows how to handle complicated, it’s you Greya.”

“Hmm, can’t argue with that,” I chuckle.

The next thing I know, Becker is sitting next to me and indirectly asking me to confirm my feelings about him. Like I said, everything about him and me screams complicated. I can’t deny the feelings I have for him though, so I answer his question with the type of gesture he fears. If we are going to work, he needs to know my hand on his thigh is a form of affection, not destruction.

As soon as he moves his hand over mine and interlocks our fingers together, he confirms that its time for both of us to try. Complicated or not, I know he needs me and deep down inside, I think I need him too.

Hours later I hear a soft knock at my front door. I peek through the window and see Becker standing on my front steps, his hands in his pockets and his eyes meeting the ground as he waits for me to answer.

I open the door smiling, “Hey, come on in,” gesturing towards the living room so we can sit on the couch.

He looks around, I assume he’s wondering about Chase. “He’s in bed, sound asleep,” I tell him.

We both awkwardly take a seat next to each other on the sofa. His dark hair is damp and untamed, his eyes clear and darker than the deep blue sea. He smells good too, he must’ve taken a shower just before coming over. I wonder if he realizes how attractive he really is.

He reaches for my hand and I allow him to hold it. The butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter around like crazy. My body wants to feel him wrapped around me, but I know he needs to be the one to control how this physical part will grow.

“We need to talk about this,” I look at our entwined hands. “Us,” I elaborate.

“I’ve never done this before…done anything with a guy actually,” I shyly confess. He looks confused for a moment and I wait for him to tease me about it.

Instead, his response surprises me. “I’ve never done this before either.”

Now I’m taken aback because it’s hard to imagine this gorgeous guy without someone.

“I’ve attempted the relationship thing with a few girls. I’ve never succeeded with any of them, and I’ve never let any of them get close to me. It was me doing the minimal amount of contact, me controlling the situation. None of them meant anything to me. But you…you mean everything and I’m trying not to mess up or scare you away. It’s hard as fuck, but I want to let you in.”

I squeeze his hand, showing him I appreciate his honesty.

“I want to try and kiss you, Greya.”

“I want you to kiss me too, Beck.”

His hand slowly raises so that his fingers reach the back of my neck, his thumb gently stoking my cheek and he leans in close to my face. His lips barely brush across mine, waiting for my approval so I lean in too. I didn’t know what to expect, not knowing what qualifies as a great first kiss. But what I feel when his perfect lips connect with mine is pure bliss.

I can feel him smile just before he slips his tongue to meet mine. I invite our tongues to dance together and I savor every second of it. His lips are warm and he tastes like peppermint gum. My insides flipping out of control and I want nothing more than to grab him and pull his body against mine. I don’t touch him though because I’ll ruin this moment probably.

My self control can only hold on for so long. So far, I’ve let him take charge physically, but the way my body is reacting to his kiss, I need to know I can put my hands on him too. I need to test the waters in hopes that we’re both ready to swim.

The urge to embrace him overpowers any sensibility I have and without further hesitation, I enfold him in my arms and stroke his back with my finger tips.

He instantly freezes and I do too. My hands still on his back waiting for him to accept me. Instead, he starts shaking in my arms, his breathing heavy until he finally backs away from me.

“Shit!” He curses to himself, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands. “Fuck!… I’m sorry… I can’t,” He continues pacing and cussing to himself. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he addresses me with such sad eyes.

He looks like he’s about to have a panic attack. “Becker, stop!” I say sternly.

He does, and then slowly turns around to face me. I carefully take a few steps closer to him. His troubled eyes watching my every move.

“Close your eyes,” I say softly.

My request makes him uneasy, I need to fix that. “Becker, do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

I step closer, “Please close your eyes, and remember to breathe.”

He closes his eyes, his limbs trembling as he tries to control his breathing.

“I want you to feel me B, feel me and know that I would never hurt you.”

His breaths are rapid but at least he’s breathing. I take my time placing my palm gently against the side of his face and watch him suck in more air.

“Breathe,” I remind him. “What does my hand feel like?”

He presses his cheek into my hand and sighs. “Warm, you feel warm,” he says.

“What else do you feel?”

“I… I don’t know how to describe it,” there’s a hitch in his voice.

I move my other hand up to his other cheek so that I have his face in both my hands and he allows my thumbs to lightly caress his skin.

“I’ve got you,” I softly say.

He drops the weight of his head into my hands and a lone tear escapes from his eye. “Safe,” he whispers.

I wipe away his tear with my fingers and we stand like this for a few minutes.

When he opens his eyes to look at me, all I see are disheartened blues. Makes me want to cry too.

“You deserve someone better than me Grey, someone who’s not weak. You need someone who know’s what love is. I want you, all of you. I want your arms around me… God do I want that! I’m a mess, Greya.”

“You’re right. You’re complex, your life is complicated,” I tell him straight up.

His eyes advert to the floor and he starts to turn away from me.

“Hey,” I grab his hand and lace my fingers with his. He stares at our connection, looking like the waves have come crashing down on him.

“My life is complicated too. I have no parents and I’m solely responsible for raising a child with a disability.” I squeeze his hand. “And you’re wrong about being weak, you are the strongest person I know. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand, so have I. But you never give up and that’s what makes you strong. You want to talk about what love is… you have more love than you know. The way you sacrifice yourself to protect your brother, that’s love. The way you look out for your friends, that’s love. If anyone knows how to love, it’s you. You need to believe that you are deserving of that love too.”

“I don’t know how,” he murmurs.

“Let me show you. I want to be with you Becker, if you’ll let me,” I smile.

“Promise me you won’t run. I know I’m damaged and I’ll try to fix it, but please don’t run,” he pleads.

“We’ll take it day by day, I’m not going anywhere,” I promise him.

Part-26

Becker’s POV…

Greya wants to be with me—me. Of all the normal guys she could have, she’s choosing me.

I’ve always dreamed of having her by my side, but it was never supposed to be real. Eventually, she’ll realize how hard it is to be around someone like me. Then she’ll leave, just like everyone who was supposed to love me has left.

My real father, whoever he is, didn’t want me when I was just a baby. And my mother… she must’ve thought giving up on Alec and me was easier than keeping us.

I’ve always believed I was unwanted—ruined by my own demons. But somehow, Greya sees through the cover and isn’t afraid to read the pages.

When her hands cradled my head and she whispered, “I’ve got you,” it took every ounce of control I had not to fall apart in her arms. That was the moment my heart stopped belonging to me. It’s hers now. I only pray she keeps it safe, because if she breaks it, rock bottom is where I’ll stay.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” she offers gently.

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” I tell her. I don’t need her to worry about me. She already has so much responsibility with Chase.

She sits down beside me, and I reach for her hand. Her soft, slender fingers fit perfectly into mine. It’s such a simple gesture—holding hands—but it’s the one I can handle. When I glance over, she’s smiling. Knowing I put that smile there makes something warm stir in my chest making me smile too.

“I love when you smile like that,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You should do it more often. It makes you look even more handsome.”

Her words make my smile widen. Before I can stop myself, her thumb grazes my cheek.

“When your dimples show, I know it’s real,” she adds softly.

My body reacts instantly to her touch. “I feel like I’m dreaming,” I admit, my voice low.

“Why do you feel that way?” she asks, her thumb making small circles over my hand.

“I don’t have much to offer,” I confess. “I’d give you the world if I could, but my life’s stuck in this endless torment. I don’t want to drag you into that.”

The pathetic, vulnerable part of me isn’t ashamed to show through, not with her. I only hope she doesn’t see me the way I see myself.

Then she does something that catches me off guard, she gently tilts my chin until my gaze meets hers. I don’t shy away this time. Instead, I grab her wrist and guide her hand to the side of my face. I’m addicted to the way she cradles my head—how tender it feels, how intimate.

My eyes close as I lean into her touch, soaking in the unfamiliar peace of it.

“B,” she says softly, “you are so talented. You’re incredibly smart, good-looking—” she smirks—“musically gifted, protective, and kind. You have so much to offer. I know we have a lot to figure out, but I’m ready for all of it, the good and the bad.”

Her words hit me harder than she’ll ever know. My arm snakes around her shoulders, pulling her into me until her head rests on my chest. I hold my breath, waiting for my body to rebel, but it doesn’t. When her arm wraps around my waist, I finally exhale and let her in.

Releasing a long sigh, I murmur, “I want to be ready for all of it too.”

We stay like that for a while, quiet, steady, just breathing each other in. She doesn’t push for more. She lets me have time to conquer my fear, and it’s working.

Eventually, I pull back. “I wanted to show you something.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded document.

Her eyebrows knit together as she reads it. “Becker… this says—”

“It says Jack isn’t my real father,” I cut in, bitterness creeping into my tone. “My mother let a monster adopt me and left us alone with him.”

Her eyes widen. “Did you know?”

“I found out yesterday. My birth certificate doesn’t list a father, but Alec’s does. Jack is his father.”

“Oh, B…” she whispers, her face full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

“Don’t be sorry, Love. None of this is your fault.” I drop my head. “I want to confront him, ask for the truth, but I need to wait for the right moment.”

“You need to wait until he’s sober,” she says quietly, almost to herself.

“Hey.” She reaches for my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Whatever you decide to do, I want to be there for you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I look at her, speechless, my instinct to protect her already kicking in.

Before I can protest, she says exactly what’s running through my head.

“I know you won’t want me there. You’ll try to protect me from him, even if it means putting yourself in danger. But it worries me, B. You always sacrifice yourself to keep others safe.”

She’s right. Of course she is. I can’t let her live with the same fear I’ve known all my life.

“Please don’t worry about me, Love,” I say gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers graze her skin, and she shivers.

“I’ve always worried about you, Handsome.” The nickname makes me smile despite myself. “Ever since seventh grade science class—when you walked in with a black eye, and the next week your jaw was bruised. I watched you sit in the back row, avoiding everyone’s touch. I didn’t know what was happening, but I worried. Even when I was drowning in my own loss, I still wondered what was making you so sad.”

She thought about me. All this time, I admired her from a distance, not realizing she’d seen right through me. She’d lost both her parents, was raising a child at thirteen—and she still cared about me.

I swallow hard. “I’m sorry it took me this long to figure out what an idiot I was. I thought teasing you would push you to be better. I wanted you to be the best soccer player the school ever had. I wanted you to get everything you deserved. But now I realize how wrong that was. What I should’ve done was just… be there for you.”

“You’ve always been there for me, in little ways and you’re here now,” she says simply. Then she smiles a soft, steady smile that feels like forgiveness. “And since we’re being honest with each other, we’ll figure out how to navigate us together.”

“I like that idea,” I say, smiling back.

I stand, even though every part of me wants to stay. “I should get back home, in case Jack comes back. Alec’s alone.”

She stands too, and I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Promise me you’ll let me know before you confront Jack,” she says quietly. I can tell she wants to say more—tell me she’s scared—but she stops herself.

“I promise, Love,” I whisper before leaving for the night.

Part-27

Greya’s POV…

“Wake up, buddy. We need to get ready for school.”

I rub Chase’s back until he stirs. He had a rough night last night. His circadian rhythm was off—at least that’s how his doctor explains it. Sometimes he spends hours trying to fall asleep, which makes mornings like this harder. Usually, he ends up taking a nap at school later in the day.

“I put your clothes on the side of your bed,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see if you’re dressed.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles sleepily.

I head into the bathroom, braid my hair, and brush my teeth. On my way back to my room, I peek into Chase’s. He’s almost dressed, which is a small victory. I still need to pack my soccer gear and make him breakfast.

As I gather my jersey and cleats, the doorbell rings. Who’s at my door this early?

“Chase, come downstairs when you’re done getting dressed!” I call as I jog toward the door.

When I open it, Becker’s standing on my doorstep in dark jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. His hair falls just above his brows. I can’t help staring.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says with that smile—dimples and all.

“Morning, handsome,” I reply, trying not to sound too surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d give my two favorite people a ride to school.” He shrugs casually.

“Yes! Can Becker bring us to school, Grey?” Chase’s voice carries down the stairs, full of excitement.

“Sure,” I say, smiling at him. “But we’re running behind. I still need to finish getting ready and make him breakfast.”

“I’ll handle that,” Becker says, completely serious. “Go finish what you need to.”

“Okay… thank you.”

Chase grabs Becker’s arm, and Becker doesn’t even flinch at the sudden contact. Maybe it’s easier because Chase is a child—safe, unpredictable in all the right ways. I stand there for a moment, watching as Chase drags him into the kitchen and explains where everything is.

“How do you like your waffles? With butter or syrup or both?” Becker asks.

“Definitely both,” Chase says without hesitation.

Their easy banter melts me. Becker’s good with kids. He’s had to raise his little brother, just like I’ve had to raise mine.

“Get ready, love. We’re going to be late,” he says, catching me staring.

I mouth a quick thank you and hurry upstairs.

When I come back down, Becker’s clearing the dishes while Chase animatedly recounts his new Hulk comic. Becker actually listens, smiling at the right moments.

“You guys ready to go?” I ask. “Your coat’s on the hook, shoes by the door,” I remind Chase.

Becker watches quietly as Chase navigates the furniture, feels along the wall for his coat, then brushes his foot across the floor until he finds his shoes. I can tell Becker’s both amazed and curious—watching Chase move so confidently without his sight.

“Are you sure you want to drive us? Chase’s school is a few miles out of the way,” I say, wanting him to know what my mornings are really like.

“Of course I’m sure,” he says easily, motioning toward the door. “Navigate the way, love.”

Chase talks our ears off the entire drive—telling Becker all about his teachers, his schedule, the playground. Becker listens like it’s the most important conversation in the world, even throwing in a few questions that make Chase giggle.

When we pull up to the school, I hand Chase his walking stick.

“Thanks for the ride, Becker! Love you, Grey!” he says before shutting the door.

“Hey, hold up—a fist bump?” Becker calls.

Chase takes a step toward Becker’s voice, holding up a small fist. Becker leans out the window and bumps it.

“See you later, bud. Have a great day.”

“Okay! And Fynn’s bringing me to your game today, right, Greya?”

“Yes, he is! Love you, Chase!” I call as he heads toward his teacher.

Becker doesn’t drive off until he’s sure Chase is safely inside. Watching him, I feel a strange ache in my chest. He’s amazing—unselfish, gentle, perfectly imperfect. His flaws make him real, and I can’t wait to learn every part of him. I just hope he feels the same about me.

“What?” he asks, smiling. I realize I’ve been staring.

I shake my head quickly. “You astound me, that’s all.”

“What do you mean, love?”

“I don’t know…” I hesitate. “The version of you everyone sees at school, it’s just a mask. I get it now. But the way you were with Chase this morning? That’s the real you. I really like this you.”

I glance out the window, wondering if I’ll ever find someone who can accept all of me—and Chase too. It’s a lot to ask of anyone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, reaching for my hand.

“Mornings like this are my norm,” I say quietly. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before because… I didn’t think anyone would want me with all the responsibilities I have. Chase and I are a package deal. I just need you to know what you’re signing up for.”

He squeezes my hand gently. “Listen, I know what it’s like to put a little brother before yourself. I respect you for what you do. Chase is a great kid, and you’ve done more for him than a lot of parents ever would.”

His voice is low, steady. “I want to be here for both of you, Grey. I want you to know you can count on me. I know I have my own issues to work through, but you’re helping me with them. If anything, I’m the one afraid of being the person nobody wants.”

This time, I squeeze his hand. The car falls into a comfortable silence as we drive the rest of the way—two people carrying different kinds of baggage, both silently deciding to keep showing up anyway.

Part-28

Greya’s POV…

Becker is full of surprises today.

As soon as we park at school and climb out of the car, I sling my book bag and soccer bag over my shoulder. I’m still adjusting the strap when I feel it, his hand sliding into mine.

In public.

At school.

No one has ever seen him hold anyone’s hand before. My stomach flips at the thought of the looks we’re about to get. He’s Becker: the guy everyone watches, the one with the dimples and the mystery. Every girl in this hallway would trade her lunch just to walk next to him.

I can already feel the drama coming—the whispers, the jealous stares—but I let our fingers intertwine anyway. Because even if the world tries to ruin it, every moment I get to feel connected to him is worth it.

“They’re all staring,” I murmur.

“Let them.” He squeezes my hand and leans down to kiss my temple. His lips are warm, his cologne faint but clean—cedar and mint. He’s so affectionate today, and it disarms me.

Becker keeps my hand in his all the way to the locker room. We pass curious guys, resentful girls, and phones trying to sneak photos. He’s used to this kind of attention—he’s always been the attractive, athletic, mysterious one, but it’s different to be the one he’s holding on to. Feeling his pulse under my fingers as we walk makes the chaos fade.

I catch myself wondering what he’d be like if his home life were normal.

If his mom had stayed.

If his dad hadn’t broken him down.

Would he have a crowd of friends? A different girl every week? Would he have ever noticed me—a girl with no parents and a ten-year-old to raise?

We finally reach the door to the girls’ locker room. Becker must notice how tense I’ve gotten because he turns me so my back is against the wall, cupping my face in both hands.

“Hey,” he says softly. “We’ve got this.”

Then he smiles—slow, confident—and kisses me. It’s quick but grounding, like he’s handing me a breath of air before I go under.

“I’ll see you in class,” he murmurs before walking away, leaving me wanting more.

“You two are getting comfy with each other,” Ari teases the second I step inside, plopping onto the bench in front of my locker.

I shrug, trying not to smile.

“Courtney took one look at Becker holding your hand and practically threw a tantrum in the hallway,” Ari laughs.

“I’m not ready for that kind of drama,” I admit, shoving my uniform into the locker.

“I know. But it’s inevitable with Becker. Just ignore it if you can. Or…” Her eyes glint mischievously. “We could have a little fun with it.”

“Ari,” I warn.

She holds up her hands, grinning. “I’m just saying, I could help you make those superficial girls back off if you wanted.”

I laugh. “Oh, I know you could.”

“How’s you and Declan?” I ask, grateful for the subject change.

“We’re official!” she says proudly. “And Fynn met someone too. Some college guy.”

“What? Is that why I haven’t seen him? Why am I missing everything lately?”

“You’re finally interested in a guy, Greya. We get it. You’re always busy with Chase, but I’m glad you’re doing something for you for once. Fynn and I are happy for you.”

“I feel like I’m neglecting you guys. Fynn usually tells me right away when he has news like this.”

“Greya,” she says gently, “this relationship stuff is new for you. We’re giving you space to figure it out.”

“I don’t need space,” I tell her. “I want to know everything. You two are my family.”

A lump rises in my throat. So much has changed—classes, playoffs, Chase, bills, groceries, and now Becker quietly filling the little spaces in between. It’s the happiest chaos I’ve ever known. But college is coming fast. I’ve got offers, enough that I wouldn’t even need Gram’s money. Still… what am I supposed to do? Bring a ten-year-old to the dorms?

The thought makes me laugh and tear up at the same time.

“Hey.” Ari’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I know what you’re doing. I know it’s a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you. Fynn and I, and Cohen and Becker; we’ll help. One day at a time. So, let’s start with winning our game today.”

When I walk into calculus, I can already feel the heat of the stares. I ignore them, sliding into my seat in front of Becker. He looks tense, jaw tight, eyes darting toward the door. I flash him a small smile.

As soon as I sit, I hear him exhale, a sound that feels like relief.

Normally, he’d tease me before a game, throw out some cocky remark. I kind of miss it. So, I turn around before the teacher arrives and whisper, “Whoever scores more than two goals buys pizza after the game.”

“Deal.” He grins, shaking my hand. Dimples. Always those dimples.

When class starts, I’m still stuck on a math problem. Becker leans forward and slides a piece of paper onto my desk. He’s rewritten the problem so it makes sense. At the bottom, in his messy script, it says:

I can tutor you if you’d like?

I bite back a smile, scribbling a reply.

I’d love the help. School’s easy for you. What are you, top ten in the class?

He chuckles quietly when he reads it. A moment later, the note comes back with just one number: 1.

“What?” I blurt too loudly. The teacher glances up. “Sorry.”

I turn and whisper, “You’re going to be valedictorian?”

He shrugs, and I just shake my head. Of course he is. He has everything going for him, brains, talent, looks and yet he still feels broken. I’m going to do everything I can to help him change that.

When the bell rings, I wait with him like I always do. Usually he lingers until the halls clear, but today he doesn’t. He stands, takes my hand, and leads me into the crowd.

Quickly we have people bump into us. His shoulders tense. His grip tightens, his palm damp with sweat. His jaw locks, eyes scanning like he’s bracing for impact.

I pull him into a quiet strip between lockers. His breathing’s shallow, panic edging his features.

I lift a hand to his cheek. His eyes flutter closed as he leans into my touch.

“Breathe,” I whisper. “We’ve got this. Remember?”

He swallows hard. “I’m trying,” he says softly, his voice laced with shame.

“I know you are,” I tell him. “And I’m proud of you for it. No one expects you to be okay with all this in one day.” I nod toward the crowded hallway. “It’s a lot.”

He gives me a small, weary smile. “It’s worth it.”

“Now give me a kiss.”

He laughs under his breath and leans in. His lips linger on mine until the bell rings again.

“We’re late,” I murmur against his mouth.

“See you at lunch?” I ask.

He nods.

I let him go, only because I want him to know he doesn’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. He’s already done more than I ever expected, he’s learning to try, to stay, to reach back when someone reaches for him.

And today, he surprised me in ways he doesn’t even realize.

Part-29

Becker’s POV…

I take longer than usual getting to the cafeteria. My head’s still spinning from earlier thinking I could actually walk through the crowded halls with Greya like some normal boyfriend.

I didn’t even make it to class after dropping her off. I ended up outside, sitting alone in my car, trying to breathe. If she hadn’t pulled me aside when she did, I would’ve had a full-blown panic attack in front of everyone.

God, I’m such a screw-up. And yet, she’s still here. Still choosing to stay. She doesn’t realize she’s the only thing keeping the chaos in my head from swallowing me whole.

By the time most of the student body has found their seats, I finally make my way to her table. Ari, Declan, and Cohen are already there. When Greya spots me, she pats the seat beside her. “Hi, handsome,” she says low enough that only I hear.

That word—handsome—does something to me. My hand finds hers under the table, and I hold on like she’s my lifeline. Because she is.

She studies my face, concern flickering in her eyes. I try to fake a smile so she won’t worry. Maybe if I join the conversation, I’ll look normal.

Before I can speak, Fynn shows up. He drops his tray next to Greya and she immediately stands to hug him. A sharp sting hits my chest when I see her arms around him. Not jealousy exactly—more like envy. He can touch her freely, without hesitation, without fear.

“Where have you been all morning? You need to share this news I keep hearing about,” she says, grinning at him.

I sit quietly, listening to them catch up. Fynn talks about some college guy he met, and she laughs, eyes bright. I glance around for someone else to talk to, but Ari and Declan are in their own world, and Cohen’s disappeared again.

I feel invisible until Greya’s hand slips back into mine. She squeezes gently, and for a moment, I can breathe again.

“You’re not eating,” she says softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love.” The lie rolls off my tongue too easily. “I ate during last class.”

She doesn’t need to know that the thought of food makes me sick right now. That my nerves are a mess. The hallway this morning was too much. Still, I’d go through that every day if it meant walking beside her.

The bell rings, and relief washes over me. There’s no way I’m finishing the day in class. I’ve already done the work for American Lit twice over—Mr. Engan won’t care if I skip. The music room is where I can actually think.

“I’ll see you at our games later?” she asks, more of a question than a statement. She knows something’s off but she’s kind enough to give me space.

If she didn’t have class right now, I’d take her somewhere quiet, somewhere I could just hold her and breathe again. She doesn’t realize what her words do to me—when she said she was proud of me earlier, it nearly broke me. No one’s ever said that to me before.

“See you at the game,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before leaving.

The music room smells like old wood and brass polish—comforting in its own way. My steps echo across the thin carpet until I reach the upright piano in the corner.

Mrs. Mara waves from her office window. She caught me sneaking in here months ago, thought I was breaking something. When she realized I was playing, she said I had raw talent. Her words, not mine.

She’s been trying to convince me to record a demo ever since. I finally gave in last week. Sent it off to Berklee, UCLA, and a dozen other schools I’ll probably never hear from. Nobody else knows about it—not even Greya. Music is personal. It’s the only thing that feels like mine.

When I play, I stop existing. I’m not Jack’s punching bag. I’m not the broken kid everyone thinks has it all together. I’m just… sound and feeling.

I start playing a slow melody, one of the pieces I sent to the schools. My fingers remember the keys before my brain does. I close my eyes and think of her—Greya’s voice, her patience, the way she looks at me like I’m worth something.

“Hey, handsome,” her voice says softly from behind me.

“Can I join you?”

I turn, surprised. She’s smiling, that small, knowing smile that always undoes me. I shift over so she can sit beside me.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Just a guess,” she shrugs. “Play something for me?”

She doesn’t push me to talk. She just knows. I tense slightly when her hand rests on my thigh—gentle, steady. Comforting and terrifying at the same time.

My fingers settle on the keys again. I play the same song, the one I never let anyone hear. When I glance at her halfway through, her eyes are closed, lips curved upward. Peaceful. My music does that to her. And that thought alone keeps me going.

When I finish, she presses her fingers lightly into my leg. “That was beautiful,” she breathes. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like it,” I admit quietly.

“Like it? Becker, I loved it.” Her eyes shimmer with pride. “You don’t even realize how extraordinary you are. You work so hard to be perfect, but this…” She touches my chest, right over my heart. “This is different. This is who you are. And I love every bit of it.”

Her words hit harder than I’m ready for. Love. The word feels heavy. Dangerous.

Does she mean it? Or just the music? My mom was the last person who said she loved me—right before she walked out and never came back.

I feel myself start to shake. Her face softens, worry creasing her brow, but I can’t hold her gaze.

“You don’t mean that,” I say, my voice rough, defensive.

“B…” she whispers, hurt.

I can’t. I can’t do this. I stand and walk away before I fall apart completely.

Part-30

Greya’s POV…

What in the world just happened? He left me. I open my heart out to him, letting him know how I feel, and he leaves me standing alone in the music room, wondering what went wrong.

How does he not think I meant what I said? Maybe I was moving too fast and what I said scared him. I just want him to realize there is so much more to him than his crappy home life. He’s not broken like he thinks he is.

“Greya Matthews to the office please,” the secretary announces over the intercom. Great, now what?

“Greya?” I hear Mrs. Mara the music teacher call out my name before making my way to the office. I turn to acknowledge the short kind lady with curly gray hair and the face of a saint. Her expression is kind, and her dark brown eyes show all the clarity and wisdom one would gain from teaching all these years.

“I’m sorry I’m in here without permission Mrs. Mara,” I apologize for intruding.

“Oh, I don’t mind you here at all. In fact, I’m pleased that Becker shared his music with you. That boy is talented beyond his years,” I’m relieved she isn’t upset with me.

“I know, I wish he would see it though,” I tell her.

“Give him time. He has a lot to process it seems, but I have faith,” she smiles at me.

“I’ll try, thank you, and sorry again for sneaking in here,” for some reason I feel terrible for skipping class and coming here.

I hurry to the office knowing they usually only call me when something is wrong with Chase. Barreling through the door like a crazy person, the lady at the front desk expresses nothing short of pity. Pity is not what I need right now, so give it to me straight, is what I refrain from saying out loud.

I straighten my stance, attempting to look composed so this lady doesn’t think I can’t handle whatever she’s going to throw at me. “You wanted to see me?” I ask.

She clears her throat, “Um, yes. Your brother’s school called as asks that you call them back…there is no emergency they said,” her eyes gaging my response.

My shoulders relax in relief, and I drop my backpack to the floor as I’m handed the phone. I’d use my cell for more privacy, but because Chase’s school called mine directly, this woman feels obligated to eavesdrop from her desk.

After getting a hold of Chase’s teacher, she informs me that Chase has been falling asleep during learning activities and at lunch today. No surprise there, as long as he’s not hurt, I can handle his sleep issues. “Thank you, Mrs. Burke. I’ll make him an appointment to see his doctor.” I hang up the phone, averting my eyes from giving the secretary any chance to sympathize with me and walk back to class.

“Grey? Is everything ok? Is Chase ok? I heard the office call you,” Fynn runs up behind me.

“Yeah, nothing serious. He’s hasn’t been sleeping at night lately and instead falls asleep at school,” I huff while simultaneously pinching the bridge of my nose. I need to make it through one more class, then I can call his doctor. I might have to skip my game and disappoint my coach and teammates.

“Hey!” Fynn spins me around and embraces me.

“Thanks, you have no idea how much I needed your hug,” I tell him.

“I’ll pick up Chase from school, feed him and get him to bed tonight. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, focus only on winning your game.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing, now accept it,” he smirks.

The guilt is eating away at me, he’s my responsibility and I feel terrible having to rely on Fynn to help me.

“Grey,” Fynn places his hands firmly on my shoulders. “I’m always here for you and Chase, no matter what. Just like you are always trying to help all of us, we can help you too. I know you feel like you’re alone in all this, but you’re not. You have me, Ari, Declan, Cohen, and even Becker. We are your family,” he says.

Hearing him say Becker’s name makes me feel uneasy and a sarcastic laugh escapes my mouth. Fynn backs away, observing my expression. “Wait, what did Becker do now?”

“It’s nothing, you know how he is.” Fynn gives me a lopsided glare, but thankfully drops the subject. I don’t have enough energy to explain my issues with Becker today.

“Thank you for taking care of Chase tonight, I’ll be home before the second half of the boys game.”

“I think you should stay for the whole game tonight, don’t worry about us, Chase and I will be fine.”

“I don’t know Fynn. I don’t think anyone will care if I stay,” I tell him. Becker was clearly eager to get away from me moments ago.

“Something tells me it will be good if you stayed,” Fynn shrugs.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he gives me one more squeeze and trots off to class.

Becker wasn’t in last period when I got there. I thought that would make it easier to pay attention to the lesson, but it only made things worse. I shouldn’t be worried about where he is, I should be angry with how he left me.

After practically wasting my whole day, I wander over to the locker room to get ready for the game.

Last game of the season before playoffs on Friday. We’ve already clinched first place, so this should be an easy game.

The guy’s team are sitting together in the stands as usual. Becker sitting off in the corner alone and doing his best to avoid any eye contact with me. Great, that sure helps.

The game begins and I was hoping that playing would clear my mind, but something was missing. Chase and Fynn were missing, Becker’s daily challenge of who would score more goals was missing. I wanted to feel the joy of my cleats running through the freshly mowed grass, yet I only felt lost. I’m sure I looked lost too. I couldn’t score a goal during first half to save my life.

My teammates were getting frustrated with me, Ari kept asking me what’s wrong. Everything’s wrong.

At half time, I sat on the end of the bench in a daze. “Grey, I know something’s bothering you and I know now is not the time to talk about it. I want you to block out everyone and everything for the next 45-minutes and focus on the game. Remember why you love playing and how it feels. Whatever is going on outside this game, I will help you through it, but right now, this ball, this field is all you need to think about,” Ari hands me the game ball and walks out onto the field, motioning me to follow her.

That’s why I love her, she knows how to talk me out of a slump. She’s right, my problems will still be waiting for me after the game. For now, I’ll do what makes me happy and deal with everything else later.

By the end of the game, Ari assisted two of my goals, while my third goal was a solo. I don’t even remember how the ball went into the net. I only remember floating around the field, lost in my own world, with the ball at my feet. The rest is a blur, except for everyone giving me a high five at the end.

My eyes searched for Becker after that last goal, only to find him walking down the bleachers with his teammates, not noticing me at all.

The guy’s game started off just as rough as our game did. Becker wasn’t playing like himself at all. He was yelling at his teammates and trying to pick a fight with the other team. At one point, the referee gave him a yellow card for a dangerous play. Finally, his coach had enough of his attitude and pulled him off the field. The fans went crazy, they were in shock witnessing the star player get subbed out for the first time ever.

I felt sorry for him, wondering if I am the one who’s caused him such turmoil. He sat alone at the end of the bench with his head in his hands waiting for the half to end. His coach didn’t seem to know what to do, so he left him be.

At halftime, Becker avoided the team huddle and continued to sulk alone. Second half of the game started, and he was still sitting. Five minutes in, I see Cohen look up towards me and hold out his hands like he doesn’t know what to do and motioning for me to help him.

It’s not like I know what to do either, but Ari helped me when I was struggling in my game, it’s only fair that someone helps Becker. This could all be my fault anyway, so I need to fix it.

“B,” I say his name softly when I move as close as I’m allowed to the bench area.

His head whips around immediately, his eyes wide with surprise. “What are you still doing here? You never stay the second half,” he says.

I swallow the newly formed lump in my throat. His next actions will be defined by what I say next. “I stayed for you,” I carefully say, hoping this doesn’t backfire like in the music room.

He remains quiet, his eyes glued on mine as if he’s trying to figure out why, so I continue. “I’m staying so that I can watch you play, not watch you sit the bench. I expect three goals from you, now get out there and play.”

By the expression on his face, I know that was not what he expected me to say at all, but it did the trick because he stood up smiling and walked over to his coach. I climbed back up the bleachers and took my seat next to Ari and watched Becker score three goals while assisting one for Cohen. Cohen looked up at me again and mouthed “Thank you.”

“Wow, I don’t know what you said to him, but I think everyone on that team and the coach owes you one,” Ari says.

“Like you said Ari, our problems can always wait, what’s important is doing what makes us happy in the present moment,” I smile at her.

“I’m heading home now to relieve Fynn. I probably won’t make it to classes tomorrow until after lunch.”

“Right, Chase’s appointment, let me know how that goes and if you need anything call me,” Ari gives me a hug.

I’m glad I stayed for the entire game. Somehow Fynn knew I needed to. Just like Ari knew I needed her, and Becker unknowingly needed me. Days like today, I’m thankful we trusted our intuition.