Hazel came up behind him but did not speak. She knew. Sheknew.
At the sound of the door, his mother paused. Slowly, she lifted her head. Her gaze rose past the words, past the page, and landed onhim.Her eyes were focused, clear…present.
Greyson’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“Mother?” he whispered, the word cracking like a boy’s.
She blinked twice, then she closed the book on her lap and pushed herself up, not shakily, but with the determined grace he remembered from childhood. She crossed the room, and every step was a blow to the heart.
Greyson stood rooted, unable to move, unable to understand, unable to believe. She reached him and lifted a trembling hand to his cheek.
“Greyson, my darling boy…” Her voice was a thin, frail whisper, but it was real. “You look… so well.”
Greyson’s breath broke. He hadn’t realized he had been holding it. Her fingers brushed his jaw, memorizing the lines as if she had found him again after being lost at sea.
“I have missed you,” she whispered.
Something shattered inside him. He tried to speak, to answer her, to tell her how desperately he had missed her too, how he had prayed for this, begged for it in silence, bargained for it in his heart, but no sound came.
He opened his mouth.Nothing.
Her hand curled more firmly around his.
“Oh, my dear boy,” she breathed, as if soothing him, “don’t cry.”
He didn’t realize there were tears until her thumb brushed one away.
And then she said something else, a phrase she used to say when he was very small. “My Greyson.”
That broke him. He swallowed a sob, stepped forward, and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t do it carefully or tentatively, but with the fierce, desperate embrace of a man reclaiming something he had thought gone forever. His mother gasped softly at the sudden closeness, but her hands rose and clutched his back.
He held her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder as the years of silence melted away.
She’s here.
She’s here.
She’s here.
He couldn’t stop repeating it, while behind him, Hazel pressed a hand to her mouth, while tears were streaming silently down her cheeks. Still, she did not interrupt.
Greyson held his mother as though time itself might steal her again if he let go, shaking with every breath.
“Mother…” he finally managed in a voice that was hoarse and broken. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She stroked his hair weakly. “I know.”
And Greyson, feeling his mother’s arms around him, feeling her voice, her presence and her recognition, closed his eyes and let the moment consume him.
Hazel walked beside Greyson down the townhouse steps, feeling her heart still unsteady from everything that had unfolded inside.
They had stayed with his mother for a short while, just enough to cherish the miracle without overwhelming her. Hazel had insisted they return tomorrow, and Greyson agreed at once, unable to take his eyes off his mother until the very last moment.
Now, as they crossed the short walkway toward the carriage, Hazel felt her pulse flutter. Greyson hadn’t said much since they left the room. She knew that wasn’t out of coldness, but simply because he was unable to process what he was feeling.
Suddenly, he stopped beside the carriage door. Hazel turned toward him, and his hand lifted, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that stole her breath. Before she could react or form a single thought, he leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to her forehead.
Hazel’s breath caught in her throat. Warmth spread through her from forehead to toes. Every coherent thought dissolved into a quiet, stunned hush.
