Greya's POV...

It's been over two weeks since I showed up at Lox's apartment and convinced him we're meant to be friends.

I obviously wish to be more, and normally I would talk to my therapist about my conflicted feelings and dilemma, but I can't. Patient confidentiality or not, Lox's safety come first, so I'll need to figure things out on my own and hope that some day, Lox will see me the way I see him.

Lox and Liam both came to my game that night and then came over for pizza after. Cohen came over too. I'm glad he came because I know he's also been having a difficult time trying to be Lox's 'new' friend when they've  been friends since they were basically infants.

Cohen, like me, has no idea how to handle this situation. He desperately wants his best friend back. He doesn't know what kind of conversation to have with Lox without relating to his former life, nor does he know how to hang out with him as guys normally do. It also doesn't help that Lox only communicates with his phone app and hasn't  used his voice yet around anyone other than Chase and I and Liam of course.

For now, Cohen and I have each other to confide in, and it helps some, although we both feel like we're lying to Loxley in a way. We know so much about his life and keeping him from remembering us feels so wrong.

I don't want to lie to him, but the things I've read about his incarcerated father are horrifying. He's a murderer amongst other things and is the reason Loxley suffers every day. He may be in prison for life, yet the kinds of connections he has still makes him a danger, and if I need to keep Lox's memories safely guarded, that's what I'll do to protect him. There's no way I'll let him endure anything like that again.

"Y...you're q...quiet t...today," Lox whispers to me as we're working out a chemistry problem.

Well he's working out the problem and I'm sitting here daydreaming.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind. And I don't understand this assignment."

"I...I've got y...you c...covered," he whispers again, sliding over the paper to show me he's already solved it for us.

"You're amazing!"

He smiles and quickly looks away; a shy gesture. I know he's not used to receiving compliments over the past three years. In his former life, I'd tell him how amazing he was multiple times a day. He was a top athlete and gifted musician. Makes me sad that he can't remember all those great qualities.

" Hey, what's wrong? You look upset?" He writes on a piece of paper that he slides over to me.

We've become closer friends over the last few weeks, he's become more comfortable asking me questions and having friendly conversations together.

"G...Grey? He hesitantly asks.

Wow, I'm really zoning out here. I can't stop thinking about the things I wish I could tell him.

Maybe I can show him somehow. He has so much talent hidden inside him, over-shadowed by all his physical ailments and lost in repressed memories. If there was only some way I could help him find those extraordinary qualities again.

He's still waiting for me to respond. Looking at me with those wary blue eyes, twirling his pen between his fingers, over thinking what my answer will be.

"Want to join me for lunch after this?"

He scrunches his brows and chuckles. My twisted moods are confusing him. Well join the club, they're confusing me too.

"Sure," he whispers, clear as day!

And now I'm content and smiling at him. I love him and my heart swells with happiness hearing him speak without a stutter. It was one word but he did it and he knows it too, the way he's smiling back.

Our professor dismisses everyone and it doesn't take long for the both of us to be walking out by the quad together. He's barely using his cane so maybe he only brought it today as a precaution. His left arm is loosely by his side, must be a good day for him physically. I'm happy.

"I...I'm p...picking th...the p...place t...today." His smile immediately masked by shy disappointment because of his stutter.

He doesn't need to be ashamed, I love hearing his voice either way.

The relentless urge to touch him takes over me again. I want to be connected so that maybe my nerves will somewhat relax around him.

I'm standing on his left side and slowly brush my fingers against his weaker hand and neither of us can deny the shiver that runs up our arms.

He looks down at our hands and then looks into my eyes. Those unsure of himself brilliant blues looking right at me. So, I slide my fingers into his and suddenly feel his own give my hand a little squeeze.

"Is this okay?"

He nods. "M...more th...than o...okay.

He's nervous I can tell. Not afraid of my hand touching his, although maybe afraid of the situation. Heck, I'm afraid too. Afraid this is too fast or too much for him and he'll push me away.

"Lead the way." I say.

Hand in hand we stroll together at a snail's pace. Not bothering me in the least because it's more time I get to spend with him, holding his hand.

He limps with his left leg and I realize how much concentration it takes for him to walk. Using his cane with one hand and making sure he plants his left foot correctly each step, while also keeping his light grip on my hand must all take focus. The knot in my gut tightens from thinking of how easy it is for me to do this task and how difficult it must be for him.

I've been doing research on TBI and strokes and the parts of his brain that have been affected, constantly work so much harder. Maybe me holding his hand is making thing harder for him.

I begin to release my grip until he tightens his. I look up at him and notice he looks confident holding my hand, leading the way to the small coffee shop a block away from campus.

We walk inside and I immediately realize I've been here a few times and I've seen him here before too. He always sat in the corner facing the wall with a hoodie over his head and working on his lap top. I wasn't losing my mind like I thought I was.

A small laugh escapes my lips.

"What?" He whispers.

There he goes again, speaking just one word, clearly.

I shake my head. "I love this place. They make the best bagel sandwiches," I tell him.

"I...I kn...know," he smiles and leads us to his usual table.

The waitress quickly appears. "Hi Loxley! Should I order you the usual?" She knows his name and his order.

He types into his phone and it reads, "Yes, please, Thank you."

"And for you?" The lady asks me.

"I'll have whatever he's getting," I tell her. I'm slightly in shock that they know each other.

She walks away to make our orders and Lox begins typing on his phone again.

"I come here a lot. It's quiet and they make great food. The owners are nice too." It reads aloud.

"I've seen you here before. Sitting at this same table, working on your lap top. You intrigued me."

Don't ask me why I told him that. I can't exactly tell him that I thought I saw my deceased boyfriend and ran straight to my therapist after, thinking I was crazy. The person sitting here hiding under his hoodie, a cane under the table, and typing with only the use of one hand, did indeed intrigue me, no lie.

"You thought I was interesting?" His phone says.

"I still do. Amongst many other things," I say and he gives me a perplexed glance.

"Don't worry, all good things." We both laugh.

His phone chimes and he reads the text message. Frowning, he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, clearly disliking the message.

"What's wrong?" Of course I'm going to ask because I've vowed to always be here for him, whatever he needs.

He shows me the message that's from Liam, saying he can't get him to his PT, OT, and Speech sessions tomorrow afternoon.

"I'll h...have t...to sk...skip," he shrugs.

No way! He told me he has his therapies once a week which in my opinion, isn't enough in the first place and if he skips, then what happens? Does his arm and leg give him more trouble, does he have more seizures?

"I'll bring you," I blurt out.

He nearly chokes on his water at my offer and then frantically types into his phone.

"I can't have you do that. It's 3 hours of therapy! You have Chase and soccer practice," it reads.

I place my hand over his so he stops typing.

"We're friends and you need me. Fynn can take care of Chase and my coach will understand."

He doesn't believe me. My coach won't understand but I don't care. She can sit me next game because this guy in front of me is more important than a soccer game.

"Please let me take you. I want to see what you do for therapy."

"I...I d...don't th...think th...that's a g...good idea."

His hand is shaking under mine. He's worried about this and I don't want him to worry around me.

"Talk to me Lox. Why isn't it a good idea? I don't want you to miss therapy and cause any issues for you."

I let him type again.

"You'll see that there's a lot of things I can't do. They make me work on things like crawling and getting myself up from the ground with only one arm and leg, it's frustrating and embarrassing that I can't do that easily."

He sighs as I read it and then types again.

"My own mother couldn't handle watching my therapy sessions and gave up on me and Liam. I don't want you to see me like that and think less of me or decide I have too much baggage." I read this one too because he'd rather his app not speak it out loud.

Before I can respond, he's typing more.

"I like being with you Greya. I don't want to scare you away." Tears come to my eyes as I read the last message.

"D...don't c...cry. I...I d...don't l...like th...that I m...make y...you cry."

"Oh, Lox, you don't make me sad. You make me very happy, I'm an emotional person is all. And I enjoy being with you too, you could never scare me away. If anything, I want to know more of you and want to be here for you. I want to learn and see what you do at therapy because I think you're so strong and you never give up. There's so much that you can do Lox, and for the things you haven't mastered yet, I'd like to help you with them."

For a split second I catch tears forming in his eyes too until he turns away and rubs them on his shirt.

"Y...you'll r...run."

"I won't."

"Do you trust me?"

He nods.

"Then it's settled. I'll bring you tomorrow."

He smiles and that's good enough for me.