Safe With You

The Call You Don't Want To Answer

~ Greyson ~

It’s barely nine in the morning when I decide to call Winston.

Big mistake.

I should’ve known better — there are rules to dealing with my brothers, and rule number one is never call before coffee.

But I’m in a good mood. A very good mood. Alyssa’s curled up on the sofa in one of my shirts, a hand absently resting over the swell of her bump as she sips tea and skims through emails.

The morning light hits her face just right, and for a moment, I forget everything else.

Then she glances up and smiles, that soft, sleepy smile that still makes my chest tighten.

“Who are you calling?”

“Winston,” I say, grabbing my phone. “He was supposed to send over the final notes on the extension plans last night.”

“Bold of you to assume Winston remembers what a deadline is,” she murmurs.

I grin. “Fair point.”

Still, I hit call. The line rings… once, twice — and then clicks.

“Morning, sunshine,” I start, but it’s not Winston’s voice that answers.

“...Hello?”

It’s soft. Groggy. Definitely not Winston.

Alyssa looks up instantly, brow arched. “That’s not your brother.”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

That’s Elle.

I freeze mid-step, phone halfway to my ear.

Alyssa sets down her tea slowly, suspicion blooming like wildfire. “Greyson,” she says carefully, “why does that sound like my assistant?”

I mouth, Oh God, at her — and hit speaker before she can grab the phone.

“Elle?” I say, too brightly. “Good morning.”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Then:

“…Greyson?”

“In the flesh,” I reply cheerfully. “How are we feeling today?”

Another pause. “Like I got hit by a truck. A very smug, very irritating truck.”

Alyssa nearly chokes on her tea. I slap a hand over my mouth to hide my grin.

“Well,” I say, smirking, “you sound alive. That’s a start.”

Elle groans. “Please tell me this isn’t on speaker.”

“Of course it’s on speaker,” I reply innocently.

“Oh my God—”

“Say good morning to Alyssa,” I add helpfully.

“Elle?” Alyssa says, struggling not to laugh. “Sweetheart, why do you sound like you’ve been wrestling a bear?”

“Because I was,” Elle mutters darkly. “A six-foot-three, loud, cocky bear with too much cologne.”

“Hey!” a male voice protests faintly in the background.

Alyssa slaps a hand over her mouth. “Is that—”

“Yep,” I confirm, grinning ear to ear. “That would be my charming i***t of a brother.”

A strangled noise comes through the phone — half a groan, half a pillow being thrown. “I hate all of you,” Elle mutters.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I say, leaning back with a laugh. “Considering you answered his phone, you seem pretty… comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m comfortable, alright,” she fires back, sarcasm sharp enough to cut glass. “Mostly because your brother stole all the blankets and somehow ended up diagonally across the bed. I had a long night, Riley.”

“Clearly,” I reply dryly.

Alyssa’s gone completely still next to me — one hand covering her mouth, the other still resting on her bump as she tries not to burst into laughter.

“I— I can’t—” she wheezes. “You two— Elle— Winston—”

“Don’t,” Elle warns. “Not a word, Alyssa.”

“Oh, I’m saying many words,” Alyssa manages between giggles. “Just maybe not out loud, because I’m trying not to choke.”

I laugh so hard my phone nearly slips from my hand. “So, Elle, just to clarify — you’re at Winston’s house?”

“Yes,” she deadpans. “Unfortunately.”

“And you slept there?”

“Greyson.” Her tone is lethal.

I raise my eyebrows. “Just confirming.”

“Confirm this,” she snaps.

There’s a scuffle, then muffled sounds — and a very distinct thwack as something (probably a pillow) hits Winston.

“Ow! Elle!”

“Oh, good morning, lover boy,” I call out. “Sleep well?”

“Piss off,” Winston grumbles.

Alyssa loses it completely. She doubles over, laughing so hard tears form in her eyes.

“You two are children,” Elle mutters.

“We prefer entertaining,” I correct.

“Unbelievable,” she huffs. “I need coffee. And silence. Preferably in that order.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, still grinning. “I’ll send over a fruit basket. Maybe one shaped like regret.”

“Greyson!”

“Elle!” I mimic back, earning an eye roll I can practically hear through the line.

A beat passes. Then Winston’s voice comes through, still thick with sleep and amusement.

“Mate, why are you torturing her first thing in the morning?”

“Because she’s easy to wind up,” I reply. “Also because this is payback for that time she told Alyssa I couldn’t dress myself without adult supervision.”

Elle gasps. “You’re still holding onto that?”

“Yes. Forever.”

“Petty,” she mutters.

“Accurate,” I counter.

Alyssa finally catches her breath, still wiping her eyes. “Elle, darling,” she says sweetly. “You’re glowing. Literally. Is that a hickey I hear in your voice?”

“I swear to God, Alyssa—”

“She’s blushing, isn’t she?” I ask.

“Bright red,” Winston confirms helpfully.

There’s another thwack.

“Stop helping!” Elle hisses.

I glance at Alyssa, who’s clutching her stomach, still half-laughing, half-stunned. “You okay?” I ask softly.

She nods, breathless. “I just… can’t believe it. Elle and Winston. That’s… wow.”

I smirk. “Who knew our chaos would start pairing off?”

She shoots me a look, still dazed. “Do not say pairing off like this is some sort of family breeding program.”

I choke on my coffee. “Okay, that came out worse than you think.”

Alyssa hides her face behind her hands. “Oh my God. I can’t take you two anywhere.”

“You love me,” I tease.

“Unfortunately,” she says, laughing softly.

Meanwhile, on the phone, Winston clears his throat. “Right, well, this has been… fun, but we’re hanging up now.”

“Coward,” I say.

“Proud of it.”

“Elle,” I call before the line cuts. “Quick question — on a scale of one to ‘you regret everything,’ where are we this morning?”

She pauses. Then: “Greyson?”

“Yes?”

“Tell Alyssa I’m taking next week off.”

Click.

The line goes dead.

Alyssa bursts out laughing again, collapsing sideways into the sofa cushions. “You’re awful!”

“Don’t act like you’re not entertained.”

“Oh, I am,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “I just can’t believe Elle of all people—”

“—slept with Winston?” I finish, smirking. “Yeah, didn’t have that on my bingo card either.”

She gives me a look — half scandalised, half amused. “You think this is serious?”

“Knowing Winston? No.” I pause. “Knowing Elle? Possibly.”

Alyssa hums, thoughtful. “She’s probably mortified.”

“Probably plotting my death, actually.”

“Well,” she says, settling against my chest, “if she kills you, tell her I’m claiming your office chair.”

“Noted.”

We sit there in easy silence for a few minutes — her fingers tracing idle patterns along my arm, the hum of the city outside filtering through the open window.

“Greyson?” she says finally.

“Hmm?”

“She really sounded happy, didn’t she?”

I think back to Elle’s voice — flustered but soft, her usual walls lowered in a way I’ve never heard before.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “She did.”

Alyssa smiles faintly. “Good.”

I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. “You’re matchmaking again.”

“Maybe,” she admits. “But if Winston makes her smile like that again, I’ll allow it.”

I grin. “Big talk from the woman who used to threaten to throw coffee at him during fittings.”

“That was before he became less annoying.”

“He hasn’t.”

“Fair point.”

We lapse back into silence, the kind that feels soft and full — the kind that makes you forget the world still spins outside your four walls.

Then Alyssa suddenly gasps.

“What?” I ask, startled.

She’s staring at her phone. “Oh my God.”

I lean over her shoulder to look — it’s a message from Elle.

Elle: Don’t. Say. A. Word.

Also, tell Greyson his brother snores. Loudly.

And next time you call, make sure I’m fully clothed.

Alyssa’s laugh fills the room again, warm and bright.

“Oh, she’s never living this down,” I murmur.

“Neither are you,” she fires back.

I kiss the side of her head. “Fair.”

~ Elle (later that morning) ~

If laughter could physically kill a person, I’d be dead.

Winston hasn’t stopped teasing me since Greyson hung up.

Every few minutes, he’ll drop another comment just to watch me roll my eyes.

“You know,” he says casually, sipping his coffee, “it’s nice knowing my brother approves of my taste.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” I mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around me.

“Not when I’m this entertained.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Riley. You’ll be back to sleeping alone by tomorrow.”

He smirks. “Promises, promises.”

I throw a cushion at him. He catches it one-handed.

“Missed,” he says.

“On purpose.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.”

“No chance.”

I try to glare, but it’s no use. He’s too damn smug. Too relaxed. Too… him.

And somehow, that’s what makes me stay.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t push. Maybe it’s how he makes everything feel a little less terrifying.

Or maybe — just maybe — it’s because for the first time in a very long time, someone makes me laugh when I least expect it.

Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.

But when he leans over, brushes his lips against my temple, and whispers, “Round two of breakfast?” I find myself smiling anyway.

“Only if I get the last pancake.”

He grins. “Deal.”

And just like that — chaos, teasing, laughter, and all — the morning feels easy again.