Our brains are like sieves.
The brain holds on to memories and facts believed to be important, discards details deemed irrelevant, and sometimes, our brains dispose or bury memories because they’re too painful.
Most of this sorting happens at night while we dream.
Previously, I couldn’t think of Mallory, even the sound of her laughter, without crippling guilt and sadness. I hate that it took additional trauma to help ease some of my past traumas, but as I lie in the hospital bed, listening to the doctor list off my minor and less minor injuries that include a fractured collarbone, fractured rib, and a slew of bruises, Mal’s laughter fills my ears and heart, a presence I’ve ignored for so long, consumes me and makes me feel more complete than I have in too many years.
“These will need to be removed in a week,” the doctor tells me, setting to work on stitching the cut on my biceps.
“And you’re going to need to keep it bandaged the entire time. Don’t let it dry—”
“We got it,” a familiar voice in the hall says.
“We know,” I think that’s Evelyn.
“Yeah,” a third familiar voice says.
The cacophony of voices carries down the hall, and I know they’re coming for me before the emergency room curtain is pulled aside and Hudson appears with Evelyn at his side, Corey, Nolan, Hadley, Hannah, Palmer, Abe, Cole, and Mackey all joining them.
“We’ll be quiet,” Hadley says.
“There’s no room,” a nurse insists.
“We don’t mind. We’re close. We’ll stand close,” Cole tells her.
The doctor looks up at me, exhaustion mirrored in his gaze. “We’re doing a sterile procedure here.”
“Everyone, hold your breath,” Palmer jokes.
The doctor rolls his eyes and points as he turns to look at the nurse. “It’s a slow night. Open the connecting curtain.”
She doesn’t look happy about it, but she tugs the curtain open, doubling the space of my room, to accommodate the large group.
The medics who arrived after Julian Holloway was shot announced him dead on arrival. The words have been turning around in my thoughts for the past couple of hours, since the same medics insisted I ride in an ambulance to the hospital. I don’t know how to process the news, only that I’ll be talking to Briggs about it for weeks, months—maybe even years to come.
I stare at Evelyn, ensuring again that she’s all right. “How are you feeling?” I ask.
She nods, but I see it in her large dark eyes that she’s not. She was in a car accident, chased, and then watched someone lose their life. I have no doubt her mind is acting as a sieve currently, sorting through all the details, fears, perceptions, and holy shit what-if moments just as mine is.
“How did he find us?” I ask.
Evelyn holds up a small Find-it Tag. “It was in your coat pocket.”
The coat I shoved her into. The coat that had him tracking her so easily.
I pale.
“Mila, I’m fine,” she says. “He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t even get to me because you saved me.” Tears pool in her eyes and it elicits mine to do the same.
“You came and saved me, too,” I remind her. “That swing to his back was the only way I was able to hold him.”
I don’t know that my mind’s sieve will replay the entirety of the events anytime soon. All I remember clearly is chasing after Julian with the determination he didn’t touch Evelyn. I knocked him to the ground, but he rolled faster than me, punching me in the face. It stunned me. As many times as I’ve worked out with the guys and they’ve pushed me around, I realized in that moment they’d been taking it easy on me and never once had they hit me.
Evelyn had come out of her hiding space as soon as she heard me scream, grabbed the biggest stick she could find, and came charging.
“We never even taught you the guillotine hold,” Cole says.
I scoff. “No, but you’ve used it on me a half dozen times.”
Grey growls from his seat beside me.
Cole flashes a guilty grin and shrugs. “I was diversifying her training.”
Mackey grins at me. “You did well, kid.”
Grey
Hudson’s dad, my mom, and Cole and Abe’s parents showed up as the doctor finished stitching Mila’s arm. The ER nurse took one look at our growing group, shook her head, and walked away.
Finally, at two in the morning, they discharge Mila, but rather than relief, everyone looks conflicted, not wanting to part.
“If you need anything—anything at all—call us. Morning, noon, night—we don’t care,” Hadley says as we leave the hospital as a large group. “And we’ll stop over tomorrow.”
Hannah nods. “We’ll bring chocolate and ice cream. All the chocolate and ice cream.”
Mila shivers beside me and huddles closer. “It finally snowed,” she says. Three inches of snow cover the ground, making the night look unusually well-lit.
I press a kiss to Mila’s temple and turn to the group. “I’ll text you all when she wakes up.”
They want to linger, but I usher Mila toward my truck.
Hudson and Evelyn follow behind us in his Jeep, and Corey and Palmer are right behind him. When we arrive at the dorm, Hudson asks Mila to wait a moment and the two hang back in the lobby. Before the elevator doors close, I watch the two embrace, tears marring their cheeks as Hudson says something and she nods, holding him tighter.
While I wait for Mila, I scan the rest of her things for a third time to ensure there are no more Find-it Tags because despite Julian being a nonissue, I hate the idea of her finding one in the future and it reminding her of being stalked like prey.
I don’t find anymore, but I make a plan to search her apartment a second time as well. The coat had been in Evelyn’s car when we searched the first time, and we never considered searching Evelyn’s things, though I’m sure Hudson will be tonight.
When Mila returns, she showers, dresses, and then takes the Valium the ER doctor prescribed.
“How are you feeling? Do you need more ice? Something to drink?”
Mila shakes her head and crawls into bed.
“Even with the painkillers and Valium, I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep,” she says. “I don’t know how you ever slept after a fight. I keep replaying the parts of the fight I can remember, thinking about what I should have done.”
I want to remind her she wasn’t trained to fight. We focused on endurance, cardio, and avoiding fights rather than participating in one. Instead, I open my arms to invite her to lie on me, wanting her tucked in as close to me as possible.
“You were amazing, Mila. Few would have been able to do what you did tonight. Don’t overthink anything.”
She gives a nearly imperceptible nod.
I don’t turn off the light. On our ride to the hospital, I realized I waited patiently for two and a half years, believing I had enough time to figure things out. I could wait for her to date other guys and whatever else with the excuse it allowed me to focus on football and my degree to be the kind of guy she deserved. I wanted to end a cycle of poverty that would ensure my mom never had to question calling out of work when she didn’t feel good in order to pay her bills.
I still want to break that cycle, still want to be the man Mila deserves, but I regret not taking advantage of every opportunity and every day I’ve had with her. I make a vow to myself I will never do that again. People don’t choose to be poor. I know that firsthand. My mother worked harder than anyone I knew, and I will do everything I can to be the best son, the best boyfriend, the best wide receiver, and if I don’t end up with a fancy house and new truck, it won’t matter because I hit the goddamned lottery when it comes to love, and we will make it work regardless.
“Mila,” I say.
Her silver eyes lift to mine.
“I love you so damn much.”
She smiles, and it grips my heart. “I love you, too.”
I can’t help but feel as though I broke a promise as I pull into Mila’s parents’ driveway. I didn’t keep Mila safe. Not entirely. The array of scratches and bruises covering too much of her attests to the fact.
Alex starts crying the moment he sees Mila’s cut lip and bruised face. They flew in this afternoon, a direct flight from California that they booked last night when I called Jon to share what happened.
“Can you walk up the stairs?” Alex asks. “Should we carry you?”
Mila shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
She’s not, but she’s amazingly brave, strong, and resilient.
Jon holds her hand as they walk up the front steps. I move to follow, but Alex turns and hugs me with a ferocity that stops me in my tracks.
“Thank you,” he says. “We owe you more than you could ever know.”
I shake my head. “She did the hard work.”
Alex releases me slowly, wiping his eyes. “We were going to ask her to come live in California with us, but after hearing what happened and seeing you this morning, I have a feeling she’s going to tell us she doesn’t want to.”
My heart feels like it’s fallen into a blender. California would allow her to never have to relive these memories, and she’d be close to her parents, and I know she misses them terribly.
“You should give her the option,” I tell him.
He stares at me. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
His words take me by surprise and have me furrowing my brow.
“Her being safe and loved is all we care about—all we’ve ever cared about, and your willingness to sacrifice your happiness for her is the confirmation I need to know you love her.” He smiles as he pats my shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”
Hudson and Evelyn show up a couple of hours later. Everyone’s emotions are visibly strained from the mental and physical exhaustion of yesterday.
They order food, but no one eats much. The mood is somber with an edge of relief that has the occasional sigh being heard.
“It’s getting late, we should probably go,” Mila says.
“Why don’t you stay,” Jon says.
“I don’t have anything here,” Mila says.
“We can replace it,” Jon says.
“Maybe tomorrow.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek.
They walk us to the door with Hudson and Evelyn at our sides.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Jon asks.
Mila shakes her head. “I feel better than I look. I swear.”
He hugs her gently and then moves to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you,” he says again, tightening his grip before he releases me.
“I didn’t—” I start to say, but Jon shakes his head.
“You did. The only person to blame is Julian Holloway.” He shakes his head again. “Why don’t you all come by tomorrow for breakfast. We’ll make french toast, play games, and recover from this together.”
Mila turns to me. “We can invite your mom.”
“She’d love that,” I say.
Mila gives a crooked grin that makes her wince as it pulls at the split lip.
“It’s settled then,” Alex says. “We’ll see you all tomorrow at ten.”
Our drive to the dorm is quiet, and our nighttime routine is nearly the same as it has been for the past several weeks.
I wait until we’re in bed before turning to her. “If being here and having to remember Julian and everything he put you through is too much, I want you to consider your parents’ offer. I don’t want you to stay because you feel like you have to. You don’t owe me or anyone else anything, especially not your mental health and sanity.”
Mila turns to me. “Where you are is where I want to be. If that’s here, or somewhere across the country, or somewhere across the world. You and me. Together. Remember? We’re a team.”
I remember. “I want you to be happy and safe.”
She smiles. “Grey, you are what makes me happy and safe. Leaving you would break me. You’re my gravity, keeping me together.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to keep you together. I want to be your safe place to come apart.”
Her eyes flash with recognition and then understanding. “Greyson Meyers, one day, I’m going to marry you.”
I nod. “You’re damn right because you are mine, and I am yours.” I lean forward and kiss her like it’s my last time, like it’s my first time, knowing we’ve closed a chapter and begun a new one, this one entitled forever.
