Safe With You

Coca Comfort And Secrets

~ Alyssa ~

Hospitals have a way of making even the simplest air feel heavy — too clean, too quiet, too… watched.

So when Markus gives me the all-clear and says I can go home, I’m already halfway out of the bed before he’s finished the sentence.

Greyson rolls his eyes, catching my arm before I topple over trying to get my shoes on.

“Slow down, love. It’s not a race.”

“It feels like one,” I grumble, tugging on my oversized jumper. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll lose my mind.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You and Poppy both. Neither of you can sit still longer than ten minutes.”

“Guess she gets that from her dad.”

He looks smug. “Wouldn’t dream of denying it.”

Markus wanders back in, file in hand. “Everything’s stable. Keep your fluids up, eat properly — no skipping meals, Alyssa — and if you feel faint again, call me. Don’t wait four days pretending it’s just a ‘bad week.’”

“Understood,” I say with a sheepish smile.

“Good.” He closes the file and gives us a pointed look. “Now go home before I decide to keep you another night.”

I salute him dramatically, earning an eye roll from both brothers.

The drive home feels… light.

Not carefree, exactly, but softer around the edges.

I’m exhausted, but the kind of exhausted that comes with relief — like I can finally breathe again.

We’re halfway through the city when I say, “Pull in there.”

Greyson follows my gaze to the Costa on the corner. “You’re joking.”

“I’m craving hot chocolate,” I plead. “And one of their brownies. Please.”

He sighs theatrically but turns into the car park. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky you give in easily,” I counter, grinning as he gets out.

A few minutes later, he’s back with two steaming cups and a paper bag that smells like heaven.

“Don’t say I don’t treat you,” he says, handing them over.

“You’re spoiling me,” I murmur around a mouthful of brownie.

“That’s the point.”

We sit in the car, windows slightly fogged, watching the drizzle streak across the glass.

The world outside moves fast — rushed and loud — but in here, it’s just us.

I dip the corner of my brownie into the hot chocolate and sigh. “This is perfect.”

He smiles softly, one hand resting on the gear stick, his thumb brushing mine.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”

When we pull into my driveway, I notice the front lights already on.

Inside, the house smells like rosemary and lemon — fresh, clean, lived-in.

And it’s spotless.

On the counter, a note rests beside a vase of wildflowers.

Tray had me come over and meal prep for you. Everything’s stocked — smoothie mix, soups, the works. Don’t argue with me. Love, Melissa x

I smile, shaking my head.

A: You’re an angel. Thank you for everything, Mel. Remind Tray he’s not allowed to make you work this hard every time I sneeze.

M: You deserve to be taken care of for once, love. Get some rest. Kiss Quinn for me.

I send back a heart and drop my phone on the sofa, heart lighter.

Greyson joins me with two mugs of tea, settling in beside me.

“What’s the verdict?”

“My brother’s meddling again.”

“He means well.”

“I know.” I glance at him. “You all do.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, the TV flickering to life with the familiar theme tune of Grey’s Anatomy.

By the third episode, I’m curled into his side, my head on his chest, our mugs long forgotten.

His fingers trace lazy circles on my arm, and for the first time in weeks, I feel peaceful.

He tilts his head to look at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I admit. “But… happy.”

He smiles — slow, genuine. “Good.”

And that’s how we stay: two tangled bodies, one soft blanket, and the quiet hum of a show that somehow always ends in tears.

~ Quinn ~

If heaven had slides and hot chocolate, it would look like Grandma Savannah’s house.

Poppy and I have been running wild since breakfast. Lillian helped us build a “fashion runway” down the hall — with sparkly fairy lights and everything — and Grandpa Charlie pretended to be a photographer, even though his camera was just his phone.

Now we’re sitting cross-legged on the rug, colouring in pictures of dresses.

“Mine’s red like Mummy’s charity ball gown,” I tell Poppy.

“Mine’s green like Daddy’s favourite colour,” she says proudly. “He says green means calm.”

“That’s because your daddy’s boring,” Lillian teases from the sofa, biting into an apple.

Poppy giggles. “He is not!”

“Yes, he is,” I agree, grinning. “He reads boring books.”

“Well, your mummy makes you eat vegetables,” Poppy shoots back.

We both gasp dramatically. “Take it back,” I whisper, pretending to be offended.

“Never!” she laughs, and then we’re both rolling around the carpet, giggling so hard we can’t breathe.

Savannah pokes her head in from the kitchen, apron on, eyes twinkling.

“Girls! You’ll wear yourselves out before lunch.”

Lillian laughs. “They’re fine, Mum. They’ve got more energy than the National Grid.”

“Quinn,” Savannah says warmly, “your mummy sent me a message — she’s home safe.”

My chest feels lighter instantly. “Yay!”

“Can I see her?” Poppy asks.

“Not today, sweet pea,” Savannah says gently. “She needs to rest. But tomorrow, maybe.”

Poppy’s face falls, but Lillian crouches down beside us, holding up her phone. “How about we send them a picture? Smile!”

We both beam at the camera, arms around each other.

~ Savannah ~

When the picture pings to my phone moments later, I smile — two little faces beaming with love and mischief.

Beside me, Charlie lowers his newspaper. “They’re good kids,” he says quietly.

“They are,” I agree. “And they’ve had a rough start. Both of them.”

He nods, expression thoughtful. “Alyssa’s strong. You can see it in how Quinn looks at her. Same with Greyson.”

~ Lillian ~

When the girls finally crash for the night — tangled together on the sofa under a blanket — I can’t help just watching them.

Poppy’s hand is curled around Quinn’s sleeve like she’s afraid to let go.

It makes something twist inside me.

I don’t even know why.

Maybe it’s because I remember what Poppy was like before Alyssa — quiet, shy, always looking for someone to hold onto.

Now she laughs louder. She runs faster. She has a sister.

And when she accidentally called Alyssa “Mummy” last week, no one corrected her.

Not even Greyson.

Though, I can bet it wasn't the first time she's done that.

I smile to myself, brushing a curl from Poppy’s forehead.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “You’ve got a whole world around you now.”

Savannah appears in the doorway, lowering her voice. “They’re asleep?”

“Out cold,” I whisper.

She smiles softly. “Good. They’ll need it. Knowing those two, tomorrow they’ll have us making pancakes at dawn.”

“Worth it,” I say quietly, still looking at them.

Savannah follows my gaze and nods. “Completely worth it.”

~ Greyson (the next morning) ~

When the first streaks of sunlight creep through the curtains, Alyssa’s still asleep — her hair a tangle of dark curls against my chest.

I can already hear the faint ping of my phone on the nightstand — a photo from Mum.

Two girls. Two smiles.

Home.

I glance down at the woman in my arms, her breathing soft and even, and smile to myself.

Maybe, just maybe, everything’s finally falling into place.