Safe With You

The Turn

~ Alyssa ~

The house feels peaceful tonight — the kind of quiet that only comes when two seven-year-olds finally fall asleep after a day full of energy and chaos.

Quinn and Poppy are curled up together in Quinn’s room, buried under a mountain of blankets and soft toys, whispering their last secrets before sleep wins.

I peek in on them and smile, the two of them tangled together like sisters.

Downstairs, the living room glows in warm lamplight, a candle flickering on the table, vanilla and amber softening the air.

I’ve barely had time to sit since dinner — the girls’ plates still in the sink, the faint hum of the dishwasher filling the silence.

But tonight’s different.

Kelsi had texted earlier — in her usual no-nonsense way.

Kelsi: I’m coming over.

Alyssa: Do I get a say in this?

Kelsi: Nope. You, me, hot drinks and snacks. Doctor’s orders.

Alyssa: No wine?

Kelsi: Not while you’re still “recuperating.” I’m not being responsible for another collapse.

I roll my eyes and text her my usual:

Alyssa: Fine. But bring chocolate.

When the doorbell rings half an hour later, I’m halfway through making tea.

Kelsi doesn’t wait — she never does. She bursts through the front door, arms overloaded with bags, hair wild from the wind.

“I come bearing comfort and possibly an early-onset sugar coma,” she declares, kicking the door closed.

I grin and meet her halfway. “You raided Tesco again?”

“Sweetheart, I raided Tesco, Sainsbury’s, and my own pantry. I wasn’t sure what kind of mood you’d be in, so I planned for all eventualities.”

She starts unpacking her haul like Santa Claus — biscuits, crisps, strawberries, and then the pièce de résistance: a purple box.

“You didn’t—”

“Oh, I did.” She holds it up like it’s gold. “Chocolate fingers. The sacred cure for everything from heartbreak to hangovers.”

I laugh, taking the box from her. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Obviously. Now tea me, woman. We’ve got serious gossiping to do.”

Within minutes, the coffee table is covered in mugs, snacks, and half a demolished packet of chocolate fingers.

Kelsi’s got her feet up on the sofa, I’ve got my blanket pulled over my legs, and for the first time in a while, the weight on my chest feels lighter.

“So,” she says, dunking a biscuit into her tea, “how’s life in the Riley circus?”

I roll my eyes. “Savannah’s stressing over her charity ball next month, Lillian keeps changing her mind about her outfit, and Greyson…”

Kelsi’s smirk grows. “Ah, yes. Greyson.”

“Don’t start,” I warn, though I’m already smiling.

“Come on, Ali. You’ve been glowing lately — and don’t you dare blame that on new skincare.”

“It’s called sleeping more than four hours a night,” I retort, but she’s not buying it.

She leans forward, grin sharp. “You like him.”

I try to sound casual. “He’s… impossible not to like.”

“That’s not denial,” she teases. “That’s surrender.”

I throw a chocolate finger at her. “Shut up.”

She laughs, catching it midair. “Admit it, you’re happy.”

I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I am.”

And it’s true. Greyson’s been gentle, steady — making sure I rest, eat, laugh. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed being looked after until he just… did it.

We talk about everything after that — Quinn’s latest school project, Poppy’s ballet obsession, Triston’s doomed dating attempts, and for a while, the world feels perfectly still.

Then, the edges begin to tilt.

At first, it’s just a small wave of dizziness. I blink it away, blaming exhaustion, but it rolls back stronger.

Kelsi’s mid-sentence when I sway slightly.

“Ali?”

“I’m fine,” I start, placing my mug down — and miss. It tips, spilling tea across the table.

Before I can grab it, another wave hits.

The floor tilts.

My stomach lurches.

“Oh God…”

I barely make it to the sink before I’m sick — violently, painfully — everything inside me twisting.

The sound alone wakes the girls upstairs. I can hear their little footsteps padding toward the stairs.

Kelsi’s instantly at my side, one hand holding my hair back, the other rubbing my back.

“Ali, honey, talk to me,” she urges.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, even as my legs start shaking.

“You’re not fine. You’re burning up!”

I can feel sweat running down my temple, my vision blurring at the edges.

Quinn’s voice drifts from the doorway — frightened, small. “Mummy?”

Kelsi turns sharply. “Girls, go back to Quinn’s room, okay? Daddy’s coming soon.”

Her voice is calm, but her hands are trembling as she fumbles for her phone.

“Greyson,” she mutters under her breath, hitting call.

~ Greyson ~

Poppy is with Quinn and Alyssa, she's taken one for the team and did a pamper night with them.

The peace doesn’t last long.

My phone lights up. Kelsi.

That’s… odd.

I answer, and all I hear is chaos — a child crying, Kelsi’s ragged breathing, and then—

“Greyson, it’s Alyssa! She collapsed — she’s shaking, burning up, I don’t know what to do—”

The world narrows to a pinpoint.

“Where are you?”

“At her house! Please, just hurry!”

“I’m on my way.”

The drive takes five minutes. It feels like fifty.

When I pull up, the door’s wide open, the lights blazing.

Poppy’s name flashes in my head, but I can already hear both girls upstairs — scared, whispering.

Kelsi’s kneeling beside Alyssa on the kitchen floor, panic etched all over her face.

“Greyson, thank God.”

Alyssa’s slumped against the cupboards, skin ghost-white and drenched in sweat. Her breathing’s shallow, too quick.

I drop beside her, fingers instantly at her pulse. It’s there — faint, but steady.

“Girls are upstairs?”

“Yes,” Kelsi stammers. “I told them to stay put. They’re terrified.”

“Alright. Grab them some blankets. Keep them calm. I’ll handle Alyssa.”

“Greyson, she’s—”

“I’ve got her,” I say firmly.

And then I do — scooping her up like she weighs nothing. Her head falls against my chest, breath warm but weak.

“I’ve got you, love,” I whisper, and carry her out to the car.

~ Alyssa ~

Everything feels distant.

Like I’m underwater — voices echoing, shapes moving, light flashing.

My stomach twists again, and I feel a hand brush my hair away, a voice I know by heart murmuring something I can’t quite hear.

Greyson.

I want to tell him I’m okay, but my tongue won’t cooperate.

Then, nothing but dark.

~ Greyson ~

The hospital doors burst open before I can even shout.

Two nurses rush forward with a stretcher, Markus right behind them.

“Put her here,” he orders. “Greyson, what happened?”

“She collapsed — fever, sweating, couldn’t stand, in and out of consciousness.”

He’s already checking her vitals, voice clipped. “Pulse weak, temperature 39.7 — get IV fluids, saline, full blood panel.”

I step back only when the nurses need room to work.

Kelsi appears moments later, both girls in tow.

Quinn’s face is blotchy from crying, Poppy clutching her hand.

“Daddy, is Mummy okay?” Poppy whispers.

I kneel, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “She’s with Uncle Markus now, sweetheart. He’s the best doctor in the world, remember?”

Kelsi meets my eyes, guilt and worry written all over hers. “She just… dropped. One second she was laughing, the next—”

“I know. You did the right thing.”

A nurse appears, telling us Alyssa’s stable but unconscious.

I send Kelsi upstairs with the girls to a family room and follow Markus to the private ward.

“She’s stable for now,” Markus says, studying the monitor. “But something’s not adding up.”

“What do you mean?”

He exhales. “Her temperature spiked, blood pressure dropped — but her labs don’t show infection, or dehydration bad enough to cause this. It’s like her body’s reacting to something we can’t see.”

I stare at her — the IV in her hand, her pale lips, the way her hair sticks to her temple.

“What’s happening to her, Markus?”

He looks at me — that careful doctor look that means he doesn’t know yet.

“I’m running everything again. I want her here for 24 hours, minimum. We’ll figure it out.”

~ Alyssa ~

When I wake, it’s dark.

The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only sound.

And Greyson’s there — sitting beside me, hand clasped around mine, thumb tracing slow circles across my skin.

I try to speak, but my throat’s raw. “Hey.”

His eyes snap open, and I see the exhaustion in them — and the relief. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“What happened?”

“You fainted. Again.” His voice breaks slightly. “Kelsi called me — I found you on the floor. You were out cold.”

I groan softly. “God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Just… don’t ever do that again.”

Despite the situation, I laugh weakly. “I’ll try to schedule my collapses more conveniently next time.”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.”

The faintest smile cracks his face. “Yeah, you are.”

Markus comes in not long after, his expression unreadable.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been trampled by a bus full of toddlers.”

He huffs a laugh. “Vitals are steady. Bloodwork’s clean. No signs of infection, no anaemia worse than last time. Frankly, I’m baffled.”

Greyson tenses beside me. “So you still don’t know what’s causing it?”

“Not yet,” Markus admits. “But she’s responding well to fluids and rest. I’ll keep her overnight, just to be safe.”

I nod, exhausted. “I’m sorry for being a mystery.”

He smiles faintly. “Keeps my job interesting.”

After he leaves, the room quiets again.

Greyson leans back, eyes still fixed on me.

“You don’t have to stay,” I say softly.

“Stop saying that,” he mutters, taking my hand again. “Where else would I be?”

There’s nothing to say after that.

We sit in silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling — the soft hum of the machines, the slow rise and fall of my chest.

Later that night, I wake again to find him slumped forward, head resting on the bed, still holding my hand.

He looks wrecked — hair messy, shirt creased, stubble dark on his jaw.

For a moment, I just watch him.

This man who came running without hesitation.

Who stayed, without question.

My throat tightens. “You i***t,” I whisper, brushing his hair from his forehead.

He stirs slightly, eyes half-opening, and squeezes my hand. “I'm not leaving you.”

And for once, I don’t want him to.

~ Markus ~

By the time the ward quiets, it’s nearly 2 a.m.

Alyssa’s vitals are normalising — slowly, steadily — but I still can’t shake the feeling that something doesn’t fit.

Her bloodwork is spotless.

Her body’s strong.

And yet… she keeps crashing like this.

I run through the results again, frowning at a small anomaly — subtle hormonal irregularities that don’t align with stress or exhaustion.

Too mild for a disorder. Too distinct to ignore.

“What the hell are you hiding, Alyssa Rose?” I murmur to myself.

I glance through the glass at her room — Greyson half-asleep in the chair, Alyssa finally peaceful.

Something’s brewing beneath the surface.

Something none of us can see yet.

But I know one thing for certain — whatever it is, it’s not done with her.