Safe With You

Sometimes, you just need your bestie

~Alyssa~

The house feels too big tonight.

Quinn’s asleep upstairs, curled up with her stuffed bunny, the faint glow of her night-light spilling under her door. The silence downstairs hums around me — that hollow, restless kind of quiet that presses in on your chest.

I’m sitting at the kitchen island, staring into a half-empty glass of wine, when I finally give in and text Kelsi.

A: Can you come over? Please?

The reply is instant.

K: On my way. Do I need wine or bail money?

A shaky laugh escapes me. Wine.

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsi breezes through the front door without knocking — she never does. Her blonde curls are tied up in a loose bun, her heels dangling from her hand, and she’s wearing one of those oversized jumpers that could double as a blanket.

“Jesus, you look wrecked,” she says softly, setting down her bag and the bottle she brought.

“Thanks,” I mutter, gesturing to the stool beside me. “That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”

She smirks, pouring herself a glass. “Spare me the sarcasm, Rose. What’s happened?”

The question sits there, heavy and patient. I open my mouth — close it again. Then, finally, it spills out.

“It’s Greyson.”

Her brows shoot up. “The Riley guy? The one who nearly moved into your hospital room?”

“That one.”

Kelsi grins. “This already sounds juicy. Continue.”

I take a deep breath and look down at the counter, tracing the rim of my glass. “Kels… I kissed him.”

“Okay, not shocking — you’ve got eyes and a pulse.”

“There’s more.” My voice falters. “It wasn’t just a kiss. We were in the hospital, and I don’t even know how it happened, but one minute I was thanking him for looking after me, and the next…” I trail off, my cheeks burning.

“Oh my God,” she says, leaning in. “You shagged him in the hospital?”

“No!” I yelp, then groan, pressing my palms over my face. “We didn’t go that far. But it was… intimate. Close. Too close. He touched me.... just…” I gesture helplessly, unable to find the words. “It wasn’t about s*x. It was just… connection. Real.”

Her teasing smile fades at the tremor in my voice. “Hey,” she says softly, setting her glass down. “You okay?”

That’s when it hits me — all at once. The panic, the confusion, the fear of what this could mean.

Tears start to fall before I can stop them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Kels. I’m terrified. Every time I’m near him, it’s like my chest loosens, like I can finally breathe again. But then I remember what happened — what he did to me — and I can’t…” My throat tightens. “I can’t do that again. I can’t give someone that power.”

Kelsi slides off her stool and pulls me into her arms without a word. I cling to her like I’m falling apart.

“You’re allowed to feel safe again, Alyssa,” she whispers. “You’re allowed to want someone kind.”

I shake my head against her shoulder. “But what if I’m wrong about him? What if he leaves, or worse, what if he’s like—”

She pulls back, eyes firm but kind. “He’s not him. You know that. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he looks at Quinn. That man would burn the world before he ever hurt either of you.”

I wipe my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. “You didn’t see me in that hospital bed, Kels. I was shaking like a bloody leaf. And then he just… held me. Like I mattered. I’ve never felt that safe and that exposed at the same time.”

“That’s because you do matter,” she says gently. “And you’ve spent so long surviving that you’ve forgotten what it feels like to live.”

I sink back against the counter, exhausted. “I don’t know if I can let him in.”

Kelsi studies me for a moment, then reaches for her handbag. “Then maybe you need a reminder of why you should.”

She pulls out her phone, scrolls for a moment, and turns the screen toward me. It’s a photo — The one I sent her that night after our movie marathon.

Me, Greyson, Quinn, and Poppy.

We’re all on the sofa, tangled in blankets, the girls half-asleep between us. I’m smiling — not my practiced, photo-ready smile. A real one. The kind that reached my eyes. Greyson’s arm is slung along the back of the sofa behind me, his expression soft, content.

I can’t look away.

Kelsi places the phone on the counter and says quietly, “That’s what it looks like when you’re happy.”

The tears start again — slower this time, quieter.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“I know.” She takes my hand. “But being scared doesn’t mean you’re not ready. It just means what you want is finally worth something.”

I stare at the photo a moment longer. The ache in my chest shifts — still heavy, but warmer somehow.

“What if it all falls apart?” I ask, my voice small.

“Then I pick you up again,” Kelsi says simply. “But what if, for once, it doesn’t?”

Silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken hope.

I take a deep breath and nod slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I’ll let him in… a little.”

Kelsi smiles and squeezes my hand. “That’s all you need to do.”

We sit there until the wine’s gone, the photo still glowing faintly on the counter between us — a small, stubborn reminder that maybe, just maybe, I’m allowed to believe in good things again.