He nods slowly, swallowing hard.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re not there yet. Got it.”
“Iamthere,” I say quickly. “Grayson, I love you. So much. When I got in the accident, I was on my way here to tell you that. I never want to be without you again.”
He meets my eyes again—and God, he lookswrecked. Not angry. Not bitter. Just broken.
“I’m not saying no,” I tell him, squeezing his hand as hard as I can. “I’m just sayingnot yet.”
He blinks, but doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t want this to be the story of how we got engaged. I don’t want it to happen in a hospital room because I almost died, because we’re traumatized and scared.”
He nods again, his eyes flicking down to our joined hands.
“Iwillsay yes,” I continue. “But when I do… I want to be standing. I want to feel like myself again. I want us to beusagain. Can you understand?”
He takes a moment, rubbing soft circles into my palm. And then he nods for real—slower, fuller. Like he’s finally breathing again.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m sorry. I understand.”
I watch him take the box back and carefully tuck it back into his pocket—for safe keeping.
“I just need some time,” I whisper. “For the scars to heal. To feel pretty again. To feel whole.”
He smiles then, so full of love it nearly undoes me.
“You’re beautiful—pretty even when the world around us is burning,” he says, like a vow. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
Chapter fifty
"STAY" - Justin Bieber & The Kid Laroi
Grayson
Six weeks.
That’s how long it’s been since the accident. Since I almost lost everything. Since thealmostproposal—where she’d told menot yetwith tears in her eyes and my heart in her hands. We’d stayed in Austin long enough to make sure the fuckers who hurt my girl would stay behind bars, but now we’re back in LA.
Mia’s family has gone back to the East Coast, but the rest of our crew has returned to the band house. Things are slowly getting back to normal, and I’m counting down the seconds until I can ask her to marry me properly. Before she left, Makenna made sure to remind me—loudly—that she’d warned me Mia would make me work for it.
I intend to prove to my future sister-in-law that I absolutely will.
Mia is healing—slowly, stubbornly, like she does with everything. It kills me to watch her wince when she reaches too far or laughs too hard, but the color is back in her cheeks. The spark in her eyes that I love so much has returned. She’s regaining her footing, editing again, picking up her camera, easing back into her world—ourworld—one frame at a time.
The ring, the one she hasn’t even seen yet, is tucked carefully away in my nightstand. I check on it every morning like some sort of gremlin hoarding treasure. I have one chance to make this moment everything she’s ever dreamed of—something she’ll actually want to say yes to—and that means I need help.
That’s how I found myself in our practice room, surrounded by all the people who love Miaalmostas much as I do.
Tony sits backwards on a chair, twirling a drumstick in his hand, looking like a chaotic youth pastor. Brandon is cross-legged on the floor with hisemotional support burritofrom Chipotle. Eric and Rylee are curled up in the leather loveseat laughing at something on her phone while Johanna sits on top of a stack of amps looking entirely too calm for someone who’s so invested.
I lay it out for them. Simple. Honest. Big.
“So, I think you all know I want to marry Mia,” I say. “I want to do it the right way this time. I need your help, guys. I need her to say yes.”
Tony lets out a low whistle. “Well, it has to be at a show. That’s very Mia-and-Grayson coded.”
Everyone’s eyes light up at the suggestion, but Brandon holds up a hand.
