Safe With You

Recovery never felt so calming

~Greyson~

Her eyes open slowly, sleepy but clearer. “You’re still here.”

“Not going anywhere.”

She smiles faintly. “Good. Because I think if you’d left, I might have actually cried.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m stubborn.”

That earns a quiet laugh — soft, hoarse, real.

I sit beside her, still half afraid she might fade again if I look away. She leans into my hand when I rest it against her hair. Her skin is warm again, but in a good way this time.

“So,” I say softly, brushing my thumb along her temple, “dinner and bed, or do you want Quinn back before dinner?”

Her eyes open properly at that. “How about both girls back before dinner — and then we have a movie night? You’ve got to be missing Poppy as much as I’m missing Quinn.”

Even after days of hospital wires and worry, she’s thinking about me. About both of them. It does something strange to my chest.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I tell her. “I’ll let the world’s best uncles know they can bring the children back.”

I bend down, press a light kiss to her head — something instinctive, protective — and stand. “You rest. I’ll handle everything.”

~Alyssa~

In the space of a few hours, I can’t quite believe what’s happened.

I kissed Greyson. In a hospital. And worse — I let him touch me, and I wanted it.

What is wrong with me?

I scold myself silently as I pull the blanket tighter around me. He’s kind, gentle, and patient — but this is madness. I’m barely pieced back together after the chaos of my past, and here I am, acting like a teenager sneaking kisses behind the gym block.

Melissa appears like an angel of mercy with a coffee for Greyson and a tea for me, her quiet presence grounding me. I thank her as Greyson takes the cups from her, and I explain that Quinn and Poppy will be joining us for dinner and insist she sits with us too. She protests, of course, but I win

“The uncles are more than happy to return our children,” he says, setting my tea down beside me. “They claim they’ve created monsters.”

I laugh, the sound rusty but real. “Good. Maybe they’ll finally stop spoiling them.”

We both know that’s never happening.

An hour later, the sound of small feet thunders through the hallway.

“Mummy! You’re home!” Quinn’s voice rings through the house, pure joy and chaos rolled into one.

Before I can stand, she’s in my lap, arms flung around my neck.

“Yes, baby, I’m home,” I whisper into her hair. “And I feel so much better now that you’re here.”

She giggles. “Mummy, you’re crushing me!”

I laugh and loosen my grip, kissing the top of her head before setting her down. My heart feels full for the first time in days.

That’s when I spot Poppy, peeking from behind her dad’s leg, clutching a card in her tiny hands.

“And what do we have here, Poppy?” I ask gently.

She shuffles forward, voice shy. “Uncle Winston told me you weren’t very well, and that’s why Daddy was with you at the hospital… so I made you a card.”

I crouch down to her level and take the card — pink paper, fairy stickers, glitter everywhere. I can’t help but smile. “Poppy, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

Her face lights up when I open my arms, and she dives in for a hug that nearly knocks me over. She smells of strawberry shampoo and crayons.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” I tell her. “And I’m sad I missed our second playdate. But you’ll have to tell me all about how your uncles handled soft play.”

She bursts into laughter. “ Tray fell down the slide!”

Across the room, my brother looks horrified. “Hey! Only because Quinn pushed me!”

“Uncle Tray, I did no such thing!” Quinn gasps in mock offence.

The room erupts in laughter. Even Greyson’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he covers his mouth, trying not to spit his drink.

“Winston got stuck in the ball pit,” Poppy adds helpfully, and we all lose it again.

Melissa appears in the doorway, smiling fondly. “Dinner’s ready.”

I invite Tray and Winston to join, but they both hold up their hands in defeat.

“We need a stiff drink and some quiet,” Tray says. “Three days of full-time uncle duty — never again.”

“Seconded,” Winston adds. “Good luck with your monsters.”

Their laughter follows them out the door.

Dinner is loud, messy, and perfect.

The girls chatter nonstop, ignoring us completely, trading stories, and giggles like they’ve known each other for years.

At one point, Quinn spills juice all over her jumper, Poppy bursts out laughing, and Greyson’s face softens in a way I’ve never seen before. There’s something about the way he looks at his daughter — fierce pride wrapped in tenderness — that makes my chest ache.

After dinner, the girls drag us into the lounge for a movie. Quinn insists on a blanket fort, and before I know it, Greyson and I are on our knees in the middle of my living room, surrounded by sheets, cushions, and fairy lights.

“You realise this is architectural genius,” he says, tying a knot in the fabric.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Riley, it’s all Quinn,” I tease.

He grins, and the warmth in his eyes makes my heart stutter.

When the girls finally settle, tangled together under the fort, Greyson and I collapse onto the sofa. The room is dim, soft light flickering from the TV.

For a while, we just sit there, listening to their giggles fading into sleepy sighs.

He glances over at me. “You feeling alright?”

“Better than I should be,” I admit. “Thanks to you.”

He shrugs, modest. “Just doing what anyone decent would.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say softly. “Not everyone would.”

He doesn’t answer. he just looks at me with that same steady gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

Somewhere between the quiet and the warmth, my head drops to his shoulder. He doesn’t move — just lets me rest there, his hand lightly brushing my arm.

~Greyson~

Hours later, both girls are asleep under their blanket fort. Alyssa’s curled up beside me, half-awake, her hair falling across her face in loose red-black waves.

I should move her to bed. Instead, I pull the blanket higher over her and switch off the TV.

She mumbles something, turning towards me. “You’re staying?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Just to make sure you don’t faint again.”

Her lips curl into the faintest smile. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know.”

But I stay anyway.

And as the night folds around us — two sleeping girls, one exhausted woman, and me, wide awake in the half-dark — I realise I’ve never felt more at peace.

The guilt that brought me here has shifted into something heavier, something far more dangerous.

Because this doesn’t feel like an obligation anymore.

It feels like home.