Safe With You

A Room Full Of Hearts

~ Alyssa ~

The first thing I notice when I wake is that the world smells like antiseptic and cheap coffee.

The second thing is the weight of Greyson’s hand wrapped around mine.

He’s half-slumped in the chair again, head tilted at an awkward angle, hair sticking up in every direction. I’ve lost count of how many hours he’s been here.

Part of me wants to scold him for it.

The other part wants to curl up in his lap and stay there forever.

The door opens quietly and a nurse slips in, smiling when she sees I’m awake. “Morning, love. You’ve got a fan club waiting outside.”

I blink. “A fan club?”

Before I can ask, the sound of tiny feet and excited voices fills the hall.

“Mummy!”

The door bursts open and Quinn barrels in, followed by Poppy and a slightly taller boy I recognise immediately — Bailey, Kelsi and Tray’s son. Behind them, my brother and Kelsi appear, both carrying bags and wearing the kind of weary smiles that say we didn’t sleep much either.

I barely get a breath in before Quinn throws herself at me. “Mummy, you scared me!”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” I whisper, hugging her tight, breathing her in. Her hair smells like strawberries and safety.

“Uncle Tray said the doctors are making you better,” Poppy says, climbing onto the bed beside me.

“They are, sweetheart.” I smile and tuck a curl behind her ear. “I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Bailey stands back, hands in his hoodie pockets, pretending not to care — but his eyes flicker with concern. “You look kinda rough, Aunt Lyss."

Tray groans. “Bailey!”

“What? She does,” the boy says with all the honesty of a nine-year-old.

I laugh properly for the first time in what feels like days. “You’re not wrong, kiddo.”

Kelsi steps closer, setting down a bag of snacks and flowers. “We thought you could use a little pick-me-up. And maybe something that doesn’t taste like hospital food.”

I grin. “Please tell me that’s what I think it is.”

“Chocolate fingers, obviously,” she says, pulling out the familiar purple box.

“God bless you, woman.”

Tray shakes his head, amusement and relief mingling on his face. “You gave us a proper scare, baby sister. You can’t keep doing this to us.”

“I know.” I squeeze his hand. “But I’m okay now.”

“Markus says they’re still running tests,” Greyson adds quietly from the chair beside me, voice calm but lined with fatigue.

Tray turns to him, giving a small nod. “Thank you for being with her, mate. I owe you one.”

Greyson shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Still,” Tray insists, “I mean it.”

For a while, the room fills with noise — children laughing, Bailey showing Quinn and Poppy a silly video on his tablet, Kelsi fussing with my pillows, Tray trying to stop the girls from climbing on the hospital bed.

It’s chaotic, but it feels like home.

I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much.

At one point, Quinn and Poppy start whispering together, then look up at Greyson with identical mischievous grins.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream for dinner when Mummy comes home?” Poppy asks, batting her lashes.

Quinn gasps dramatically. “That’s the best idea ever!”

Greyson sighs like a man defeated. “You’re all conspiring against me.”

Tray snorts. “Welcome to parenthood, mate.”

“Yeah, well,” Greyson mutters, hiding a smile, “it’s not so bad.”

His eyes find mine across the laughter — soft, steady, and full of something that feels suspiciously like love.

The world tilts in that gentle, dizzying way again, but this time, it’s not from illness.

Eventually, the children grow tired, and Kelsi herds them toward the door with promises of McDonald’s.

Tray lingers, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

“You rest. Let Markus figure out whatever this is. And if you need anything — anything at all — you call me.”

“I will,” I say softly.

He squeezes my shoulder, gives Greyson a nod, and follows his family out.

The room feels quieter without them — the echo of laughter fading into stillness.

Greyson moves to sit on the edge of my bed, his hand finding mine again.

“You’ve got a good family,” he says after a while.

“I do,” I admit. “And somehow, they’ve adopted you and Poppy, whether you like it or not.”

He smiles, brushing a thumb across my knuckles. “I think I can live with that.”

~ Greyson ~

By mid-afternoon, Alyssa’s asleep again, colour finally returning to her cheeks.

I step out into the corridor, stretching my back. Markus is waiting at the end, a clipboard in hand and that same frown he’s had for days.

“How is she?” he asks.

“Better. Tired, but better.”

He nods slowly. “Good. I’ve gone over her tests again.”

“And?”

Markus hesitates, a rare thing for him. “Everything looks… fine. Better than fine, actually. But there are small fluctuations that don’t make sense — hormone levels that shouldn’t be where they are, considering her medication and cycle history.”

I frown. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t know yet,” he admits. “But whatever’s happening, it’s not infection, not exhaustion. Her body’s adjusting to something.”

Something. The word sticks in my chest.

“She’s okay, though?”

“For now, yes. I’ll keep her another night, just to monitor things. But I’ll be honest, Greyson — I’ve never seen someone’s body bounce between extremes like this without a clear cause.”

I glance through the glass window into Alyssa’s room. She’s curled up, sleeping peacefully, hand resting where mine had been.

The faintest smile lingers on her lips, like she’s dreaming something good.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “She’s strong.”

“She is,” Markus agrees. “But strong doesn’t mean invincible.”

“I know.”

Markus studies me for a moment, his tone softening. “You care about her.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yeah. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

He gives a small, knowing smile. “Then keep doing what you’re doing. She trusts you. That’s half the battle.”

I nod, still watching her. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“Of course.”

When Markus leaves, I return to her bedside.

The light outside is fading — the hospital bathed in that strange pinkish glow before night sets in.

Alyssa stirs, blinking sleepily. “Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she says softly. “What time is it?”

“Nearly six.”

She groans. “I’ve slept all day.”

“You needed it.”

Her eyes flutter shut again, and she smiles faintly. “You’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?”

For a moment, she’s quiet — then, barely audible, she says, “Don’t leave me, Greyson.”

I reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

She exhales, slow and easy, and drifts back to sleep.

I sit there, her hand in mine, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Whatever this is — whatever’s hiding beneath the surface — I’ll be here until it’s gone.

Because leaving her has never been an option.