Raelynn."You all know exams are coming up, right?" Mrs. Gibson announces, concluding her Chemistry class with the kind of stern expression that means business. "And if you don't want to be seeing my face next semester, you better start studying now…"I struggle to remain present, but my mind is anything but focused on Organic Chem or exam prep.Instead, I'm drowning in a mix of emotions I can't seem to sort through—anger at my mother, sadness for Gray's family, hurt that runs bone-deep, gratitude that Gray finally trusted me enough to share his truth, buy also confusion on how to proceed.Without realizing it, I start scratching my index finger with my thumbnail—a nervous habit I've had since childhood. The small pain helps, keeps me tied to the present instead of spiraling into the mess of revelations from last night."…better not expect any extensions, I won't listen to any excuses," Mrs. Gibson is saying as she packs up her things. "This is your final warning."Scratch. Scratch. S
Raelynn.The silence stretches between us in a suffocating manner, and it takes everything in me not to turn on my heels and bolt away.When I finally look up, Gray's face confirms what I already know. The guilt written across his features, the way he's holding himself like he's bracing for me to run, the devastation in his eyes—it all tells the same story.My mother. My mother helped destroy his family.I feel like I might be sick, but I force myself to swallow the nausea, to push down the panic that's clawing at my throat. Today is his mother's anniversary. Today is about his pain, his loss, and I won't make this about me. I can't."Tell me everything," I whisper, my voice steadier than I feel. "I need to know everything she did."Gray shakes his head immediately. "Rae, you don't need to hear—""Yes, I do." The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don't apologize. "If I'm going to understand why you hated me, why Isabella can barely stand to look at me, I need to know what
Raelynn.I've always wanted Gray to be honest with me, to show me the parts of himself the world has never seen. And now, standing on this rooftop with the city beneath us, he's finally ready to give me that honesty.But something about his tone—the careful way he's choosing his words, the devastation behind his eyes—makes my stomach clench with dread."This conversation might hurt you," he says quietly, his voice strained like every word is being dragged from somewhere deep inside him. "It might make you angry, or upset, or... it might put you in a lot of pain."His hands find mine, gripping them like I'm the only thing keeping him in standing, in this moment, to himself."If you ask me not to tell you, I won't mention it again. Ever."The seriousness in his voice makes something cold settle in my chest. This isn't just about his therapy session or his mother's anniversary. This is about us. About whatever's been eating him alive since the day I walked into his house."Gray—""I need
Grayson."You know you could have just texted me back instead of calling like a psychopath," I tell Bridget, keeping my voice low as I step further away from Rae. She's still at the railing, completely absorbed in the view, occasionally glancing back with that soft smile that makes my chest tight.The city lights blur slightly at the edges of my vision—the concussion still making itself known at the worst possible moment."How dare you threaten me," Bridget hisses through the phone, her voice already high pitched with panic.I run my free hand through my hair, the motion sending a sharp pain through my skull. "Asking you to tell your daughter the truth isn't a threat, Bridget. It's called being a decent human being.""Don't you lecture me about decency, you little bastard—""Is that a no?" I cut her off, my voice turning dangerously cold. "You won't tell Rae yourself?"There's a pause, then the sound of something crashing like glass shattering against a wall. Classic Bridget tantrum.
Raelynn.We're sitting at a corner table in the dimly lit restaurant, fairy lights casting a warm glow across Gray's face. I'm trying to make small talk about the menu, the decor, anything to fill the silence, but Gray seems to be struggling more than he's letting on.He's staring at me with a forced smile, but his eyes keep going distant, like he's seeing something else entirely. Occasionally he winces, his hand moving to his temple where the bandages are hidden under his hair. His plate sits untouched in front of him, the pasta getting cold.He's fighting so hard to be present, to become the carefree Reagan Cooper we invented in the taxi, but I know him too well. I can see the way his mask is slipping, the pain bleeding through no matter how hard he tries to hide itMy chest aches at the sight. I don’t want to add to his burdens, today is hard enough for him."Gray," I murmur, leaning forward. "If you don't want to be here, we can go back. I'm worried I'm not helping—"His eyes wide
Raelynn.Earlier."What do you mean Gray's been discharged?" I ask Brandon, shutting my locker with more force than necessary, my eyebrows shooting up.He had approached me immediately after my first period looking sheepish—now I know why. He runs his hand over his crew cut nervously, avoiding my gaze."He left earlier this morning. Didn't want to bother you and all."My brows knit together. I should have suspected something when he said he'd leave the hospital at night, but he seemed so exhausted and I didn't want to make things worse by pushing.Brandon runs a hand down his face, looking older than his seventeen years. "Look, I don't know if I should be telling you this, but I'm worried as hell about him. And I feel like you're the only one who can actually get through to him right now."I turn, giving Brandon my full attention, my chest tightening at the serious tone in his voice. "Tell me what?""Today," he exhales heavily, "today is the worst day of the year for Gray. It's his mu