Greya's POV...

This is comforting—like home.

Waking up next to a warm body, my own wrapped in Becker's arms and legs. We're tangled completely, his slow breaths brushing over my neck, his head buried against my shoulder. He's asleep.

It makes me happy knowing he feels safe enough to close his eyes beside me. He trusts me—and that's an enormous accomplishment for him. I don't dare move. He needs this.

"Grey, can we have chocolate chip pancakes?"
Oh, Chase.

Becker's eyes fly open, darting around until they find me. Relief, then amusement, settles in his expression.

"Kids," I say, smiling.

"Yeah, kids." He chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss my cheek before pulling me close again. His hand trails down my arm, his lips grazing my neck.

"How are you this morning? After everything last night?" I ask.

"Better." He kisses my forehead. "I'm just glad I have you. And that you didn't ask me to leave."

My heart tugs. I kiss him back. "I meant every word last night, handsome. I'd never ask you to leave. I want you here, always."

"Grey?" Chase calls again.

"Coming, Chase!" I yell back, laughing a little.

"We should probably make those pancakes," Becker says, hugging me one more time before we sit up.

"How's your ankle?"

"Stiff, but not bad. I think I'll try walking on it—no crutches."

I know better than to argue. He's been through worse, and he knows his limits.

When I head downstairs, Chase is reading Alec one of his comic books at the kitchen table.

"How did you guys sleep?" I ask.

"Great, thank you," Alec answers politely.

"Yeah, we slept great! Can we have bacon too, please?" Chase adds.

"Sure, buddy. Pancakes and bacon coming right up.

Alec, there's orange juice in the fridge if you want some."

"Thanks, Greya."

As I start cooking, Becker limps in without his crutches. "Don't worry, Love—it doesn't feel so bad," he says, smiling.

He comes up behind me, slides his arms around my waist, and kisses my neck. His hands linger, grounding me. Becker may not be ready to say I love you out loud, but he's saying it in all the ways that matter.

"Eat up, boys. I made too many," I announce, setting the pancakes down.

"There's no such thing as too many pancakes," Alec says, elbowing Chase.

"Want to stay the rest of the week?" I ask Becker softly.
He rubs my back and kisses my temple. "We'd love to. You and Alec both have practice, and since my ankle isn't ready yet, I can pick up Chase after school and stay with him until you get home. Give Fynn a break."

"Yeah," Alec adds, "I can stop home for clothes and come back by dinner."

"Yes! Please stay over tonight too, Alec!" Chase blurts, making us all laugh.

"The cook doesn't clean," I remind them, handing off plates. "You boys have kitchen duty."

Alec nudges Chase toward the sink. "Come on, bud. I'll wash, you dry."

Becker nods toward the living room. "Can you wrap my ankle, Love?"

I grab the ace bandage and follow him to the couch. Sitting on the coffee table facing him, I gently lift his foot onto my thigh. He doesn't flinch—just watches me, calm and trusting.

The swelling's gone down. "Looks better," I say softly.

"Thanks, Grey. For everything." His smile is warm and unguarded. I can't help it—I climb onto his lap, straddling him, my hands on his face as I press my lips to his. The kiss is slow and deep, filled with every unspoken thing between us.

When we break apart, our foreheads rest together.
"I love you," I whisper.

He smiles. "Is this okay?" I ask, searching his eyes.

"It's perfect. You're perfect, Grey."

"You're perfect to me too, B. I love you for you. Don't ever forget that."

Chase and Alec stroll in, and I quickly slide off Becker's lap. Alec ruffles Chase's hair. "See you tonight, buddy. We'll read more comics."

"Thank you, Greya," Alec says. "I'll wait in the car, Beck."

Chase runs upstairs to grab his backpack. When his door shuts, Becker steps closer, wraps his arms around me, and buries his face in my neck.

"I'll see you in class," he murmurs, kissing me once more before leaving.

By the time I get home from soccer practice, the sun's dipping low, throwing gold light across the living room floor. I hear laughter before I even open the door.

"Wait! Don't knock that tower down yet—I need two more pieces!" Chase's voice echoes, high and full of energy.

When I step inside, I stop in the doorway and take in the scene. The living room is completely overtaken by Legos—an entire city sprawled across the carpet. Chase is crouched in the middle of it, his hair sticking up every which way, while Becker sits cross-legged beside him, a bright red brick in hand and the softest smile on his face.

He looks... peaceful. Not guarded or heavy, just happy.
"Wow," I say, dropping my gym bag by the door. "This is impressive."

"Grey! Look what we built!" Chase shouts proudly even though he can't see the mess, he knows him and Becker created something big.

"Becker helped me make the police station and the tower, but I did the garage all by myself!"

I crouch down beside them. "You two have been busy."

"Yeah," Becker says, glancing up at me with that half-smile that always melts me. "He's a good builder. Bossy, though."

"I'm the architect," Chase declares, grinning.

I laugh. "And what's Becker then?"

"My assistant."

"Assistant?" Becker fakes offense, clutching his chest. "I think I deserve at least co-builder status."

Chase giggles uncontrollably. I look between the two of them—my little brother and the guy who's learning how to be whole again—and feel something catch within my soul.

"Alright, architects," I say softly, "how about we order pizza and leave the cleanup for tomorrow?"

"Best idea ever," Chase says immediately.

Becker leans back on his hands, smiling at me from across the mess of bricks. "You sure you want to leave this masterpiece out overnight?"

"Yeah," I say, meeting his eyes. "I like seeing what home looks like when it's lived in."

His expression softens—something quiet and full of meaning in his gaze—and I know he feels it too. That warmth. That belonging.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly right.

By the time the pizza boxes are stacked on the counter, Chase is yawning through his second slice. Becker's helping him with math homework at the table, his head bent close, pencil tapping lightly as he murmurs hints instead of answers.

It's the kind of quiet evening I used to dream about — no chaos, no tension. Just laughter, small talk, the smell of melted cheese, and the guy I love smiling like he finally believes he belongs here.

"Alright, Chase," I say, "time for a shower. You've got school tomorrow."

"Aww."

Becker grins. "Go on, little man. I'll guard the Lego city while you're gone."

"You promise?" Chase asks, eyes wide.

"Promise," Becker says solemnly. "Not even one piece will move."

Chase bolts upstairs, and I sink into the couch beside Becker with a soft sigh. "He adores you, you know."
He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's easy to adore too."

"So are you."

The words make him glance up, startled, but then his expression softens. His fingers brush against mine, tentative at first, then firmer, threading our hands together.

"I could get used to this," he murmurs.

I lean against him, my head resting on his shoulder. "Then do."

We sit like that for a few minutes, the low hum of the dishwasher in the background, until his phone buzzes. Once. Twice. Then again.

He frowns, pulling it from his pocket. "It's Alec," he says quietly.

He answers, and I watch his face change — calm to confusion, then to something else entirely. Fear.

"Alec, slow down," he says, standing up fast. "Where are you? Who's with you?"

His eyes dart toward the window, then to me, his breathing quickens. I rise too, heart thudding.

"Becker?"

He presses the phone tighter to his ear, voice low and strained. "Stay there, okay? I'm on my way."

When the call ends, his hands are shaking.

"What happened?" I ask, stepping closer. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," Becker says. His voice cracks a little. "He sounded..." He pauses. "Something's wrong. I need to go home."

I grab his wrist before he can move. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No." He shakes his head hard, pulling me into his arms. "You need to stay here with Chase. I'll text you when I get home. I'll go and take care of Alec and then we'll be back over, okay?"

My pulse pounds in my ears. "Becker, talk to me. What's going on?"

He exhales, like it's taking everything in him to stay still. "I don't know yet. But Alec and I can handle it."

His eyes are glassy, scared in a way I've never seen before. His words contradict with what I'm seeing.

"Don't go alone, call Cohen or Declan," I whisper, tears burning behind my eyes.

He cups my face in both hands, his thumbs tracing the edges of my jaw. "Greya, listen to me." His voice trembles, but his gaze doesn't waver. "I need you to hear this." He swallows hard. "I love you, Greya. I've loved you for a long time, since the day we locked eyes in the 7th grade. I didn't say it before because I didn't think I deserved to. But I do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

My tears spill over. "Then stay."

"I can't."

I clutch his shirt, shaking my head. "Please don't go. Not tonight."

He presses his forehead to mine. "I'll be back. I promise."

He kisses me once—deep, fierce, like he's trying to memorize the shape of it. When he pulls away, his eyes linger on me one last second before he turns for the door. "I love you, Grey."

"Becker—"

He looks over his shoulder.

And then he's gone.

The house feels too quiet, too still. I stand frozen by the door, staring at the handle he just touched, a cold ache settling deep in my chest.

Because I'm terrified that saying "I love you" he meant goodbye.