But I wasn’t.
I saw Alex’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, veins standing out against his skin. He didn’t look back, not once, but I could feel it. The tension rolling off him.
The silence wasn’t cold anymore. It was heavy, thick, and angry.
He was angry for me.
And that alone made something crack inside my chest because Alex Grayson never cared.
He didn’t comfort.
He didn’t console.
He didn’t even know me personally. Or like me.
But tonight, when I was shaking too hard to hold myself up, even Alex looked worried.
That’s how bad it was.
—
The hospital lights were too bright.
Everything smelled like antiseptic and metal and fear.
When the nurse finally wheeled me out, I was quiet. Too quiet. My arm was wrapped in white, tight, heavy, cold against my skin. A cast.
Jennie stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, Rory…”
I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at anyone.
Alex was still at the front desk, signing papers, his expression unreadable but his jaw locked, eyes dark. The kind of dark that meant trouble.
Jennie came closer, her sneakers squeaking on the tiles, before her arms wrapped around me gently, careful of the cast.
The warmth broke me.
I started shaking again, small, uncontrollable tremors that made my teeth clack, and my throat ache. I didn’t mean to cry again, I really didn’t, but the tears came anyway, soaking her shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Jennie whispered, rubbing my back in circles. “It’s okay, you’re okay, sweetheart.”
But it wasn’t okay.
None of it was okay.
I’d never been hurt this badly before, physically, emotionally. The pain in my arm didn’t even compare to the ache in my chest.
Joshua Lockhart did this.
And for the first time since coming here…
I wasn’t scared of him.
I wasdone.
Alex came back with the receipt, handed a copy to Jennie without saying a word, and just stood there for a second staring at me. His eyes softened, barely, but enough for me to see it.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he muttered, low. “We’ll get you home.”
