Safe With You

Big Brother. Big Wisdom

~Greyson~

By the time I leave AQ, my head’s a mess.

Triston and I had our meeting — smooth enough, if a bit rushed — but I barely remember a word of it. The whole time, my mind kept drifting back to her. The way she smiled when she handed me that coffee. The way she avoided my eyes whenever I said something kind.

She’s brilliant, poised, stubborn as hell… and she terrifies me.

I’m halfway home before I realise I’ve missed the turning. Instead of heading back to the house, I find myself pulling into the car park of St. Andrews Hospital.

Markus’s car is there. It always is.

I text him a quick You busy?, and by the time I reach the staff entrance, he’s already waiting with two coffees and that irritatingly smug older-brother grin.

“Well,” he says, handing me a cup, “you’ve either killed someone or fallen for them. Judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

“Piss off,” I mutter, but there’s no bite behind it.

He laughs and gestures for me to follow him through the maze of corridors until we reach his office — a small, tidy space that smells faintly of disinfectant and burnt espresso. He shuts the door behind us and gestures to the chair opposite his desk.

“Alright, Romeo. Sit. Start talking.”

I drop into the chair, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not— it’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” he says easily, leaning back in his chair. “But you came here instead of home, which means it’s serious enough to mess with your head. So, who is she really?”

“Alyssa.” I don’t even need to say her surname; he knows.

He raises a brow. “Ah. The designer who nearly gave you a coronary last week.”

I nod. “Yeah, that one.”

He studies me for a moment, quiet, waiting. He’s good at that — letting silence do the work.

Finally, I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve tried, but it’s like… she’s in my head constantly. Everything about her— the way she carries herself, how bloody strong she is— it’s magnetic. But it’s not just attraction.”

“Go on.”

“It’s the way she looks at the world,” I continue, struggling to put it into words. “Like she’s holding everything together by sheer willpower. Like she’s been through hell, and she’s still standing. I see her, and I just— I want to make her life easier. I want her to know she doesn’t have to do it all alone.”

Markus’s face softens. “You care about her.”

“I do.” The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess them. “More than I probably should. And that’s the problem.”

“Why’s that a problem?”

“Because she’s not ready,” I say quietly. “You saw her.. The panic when she woke up in the hospital, the fear. There’s something in her past that’s still chasing her. I can see it in her eyes.”

Markus leans forward, elbows on the desk. “So what are you afraid of? Hurting her? Or being hurt yourself?”

I stare down at the floor. “Both.”

He lets that sit for a while before speaking. “Grey, you’ve always had this thing about protecting people. Dad, Mum, me, Winston, Poppy… you carry everyone else’s weight and never let anyone help you carry yours. Maybe for once, this isn’t about protecting anyone. Maybe it’s about letting someone in.”

I shake my head. “You don’t get it. She’s built walls taller than mine. If I push too hard, she’ll bolt. And if I don’t push at all, I’ll lose her before I ever had a chance.”

“Sounds like you’re already halfway gone,” Markus says softly.

I look up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t even know what this is. I just know that when I’m around her, everything feels… right. And when I’m not, it feels wrong.”

He smiles faintly. “Congratulations, little brother. You’re in love.”

“Don’t start with that,” I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “It’s not love. It’s— it’s complicated.”

“Love usually is,” he replies, amused. “And before you argue — I know you, Grey. You don’t do casual. You don’t get like this over anyone unless it means something.”

I let out a slow breath, sinking deeper into the chair. “You really think I deserve someone like her?”

Markus’s expression softens into something almost brotherly tender. “Greyson, you’ve spent years giving everything to everyone else — to your business, to Poppy, to us. You’ve built a life around stability because it’s safe. But safe isn’t the same as happy.”

I look down at the untouched coffee in my hands. The steam’s already fading.

“What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Then you keep being the man who was there when she needed someone. That’s enough.” He pauses, then adds gently, “But what if she does?”

I glance up. “What?”

“What if she wants you too? What if all that fear you see isn’t rejection — it’s her fighting the same battle you are?”

The thought hits harder than I expect. I lean back, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know if I can risk it.”

Markus stands and walks over, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t risk it all at once. You start small. You show her that you’re not going anywhere — not when it’s easy, not when it’s messy. That’s how you earn trust.”

For a long time, neither of us speaks. The hum of the hospital fills the space — a steady, comforting noise.

Finally, I nod. “You’re a good doctor, you know that?”

He smirks. “And you’re a terrible liar, but I love you anyway.”

That earns a laugh out of me — genuine, unexpected. “You’re an arse.”

“Occupational hazard,” he says, patting my shoulder. “Now go home before you start brooding in my office. And Grey?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop convincing yourself you’re not worthy of something good. Alyssa clearly sees something in you — I saw it when she looked at you in that hospital room. So stop getting in your own way.”

I leave his office feeling lighter and heavier all at once.

By the time I reach my car, the city’s already dipped into evening. The streets are golden with the last of the sun, and for a moment, I just sit there, hands on the wheel, replaying Markus’s words in my head.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m the one still holding back out of fear.

As I start the engine, I catch sight of Poppy’s school drawing tucked into the dashboard — the one of the four of us: me, her, Quinn, and Alyssa.

She’d drawn it days ago. Before any of this made sense.

A smile creeps across my face. “Out of the mouths of babes,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop running from the good things that want to stay.