Sitting in a chair, tear-stained, head resting against my bed, chest rising and falling in soft, even breaths. His brown hair falls across his face, slightly mussed, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. He’s sleeping—completely worn out from the night before, from the chaos of the fight, from carrying me through it all. I move slowly, careful not to jostle the monitors or the IV lines, and smooth a lock of hair back from his face, brushing it with my fingertips like I’m afraid he might vanish if I let go.
“Leander,” I whisper, my voice rough, hoarse, still raw from last night’s adrenaline. My hand lingers on him, tracing the line of his jaw, memorizing the softness I’ve claimed for myself. Heshifts slightly but doesn’t wake. His small sigh is enough to make my chest clench.
I want to speak, to tell him everything swirling in my head, but words feel heavy and clumsy. Instead, I just sit here, holding him in place with gentle strokes, my heart steadily calming under the quiet rhythm of his sleep.
Footsteps echo softly in the hallway, and I glance toward the door. Silas. My stomach twists.
He steps inside, holding a cup of coffee, his gaze flicking immediately to Leander. My grip tightens slightly—not in anger, but in possessiveness, in a way I never realized I could feel. Silas looks wary, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer in his expression. Something I haven’t seen before.
“Morning, Phoenix. You gave him quite the scare,” Silas says, voice careful, measured. “You needed stitches. Minor concussion. Nothing the doctors couldn’t handle. You’ll be ready for the championships, but you need rest.”
I nod, letting the words settle in. My chest is still tight, my body still humming with the residue of rage and adrenaline, but there’s relief here too. Relief that I’m going to be okay. Relief that Leander doesn’t have to worry himself sick.
Silas sets the coffee down on the small tray beside my bed. “I’ve… been wanting to talk to you,” he continues, hesitating for a moment, eyes flicking toward Leander. “About him.”
My gaze sharpens, instinctively defensive. But Silas keeps speaking, and I notice something in his tone—a vulnerability, a truth he can’t hide.
“I always protected Leander,” Silas says quietly. “Because… he never could stand up for himself. He always needed someone to make sure he was safe.” His eyes shift to me, measuring, and I tighten my jaw. “But your friend Jax told me what happened last night.”
I feel my stomach twist. I know exactly what he means.
“I saw him with the doctors,” Silas continues, “how he didn’t leave you alone for a second. How he made sure you got the best care. And I realized… he doesn’t need protection the way I always thought. Because maybe you’ve taught him to stand on his own. And more than that, you’ve been there for him when I couldn’t be. Fully. Without hesitation.”
I can feel the weight of his words settling over me, mingling with the exhaustion and relief. My fingers tighten in Leander’s hair, brushing the soft strands at the back of his neck. My chest aches in a way that’s both tender and raw.
“I… thank you,” Silas says quietly. “For that. And… I owe you an apology. For last month. For hitting you. I was wrong. I misjudged you. I see now that he’s not a child anymore. Not with you.”
The words hit harder than I expected. I swallow, trying to keep my throat from catching. “I love him,” I whisper, almost to myself, but loud enough for Silas to hear. “More than anything. I’ll always be here. Always. No matter what.”
Silas’s eyes soften, and for a long moment, he studies me. “Thank you,” he says finally. Simple. But in those simple words, I hear understanding, relief, and trust. He knows. He trusts me with the person he’s always protected, the person he’s always cared for.
Leander stirs slightly, a quiet murmur escaping his lips, but he doesn’t wake up. I press my lips gently to the crown of his head, inhaling the faint scent of his shampoo mixed with the warmth of his skin. I feel an unexpected calm settle over my chest.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, the chaos of my life—the team, the media, the constant tension—feels like it’s been pushed away. All that exists is him. All that matters is the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint warmth beneath myfingertips, and the quiet presence of Silas acknowledging that he sees me as someone worthy of caring for Leander.
“I’ll make sure he knows,” Silas says quietly, nodding toward Leander, “that you’re… good for him. That he’s safe with you.”
I glance at him, my chest tight, and nod once. “He will be,” I say. “Always.”
Silas gives a small nod, setting the cup of coffee back on the tray, and steps back toward the door. “I’ll let you two rest,” he says. “But… thank you. Truly. For everything.”
I nod again, words failing me, because the emotions are too heavy to translate. Relief, love, protectiveness, exhaustion—all mingling into a single knot that tightens in my chest.
As the door closes behind Silas, I lean back slightly, still tracing Leander’s hair.
“Baby,” I murmur, brushing my lips lightly across his temple, “you have no idea how much I need you. How much I love you.”
A faint sigh escapes him, and I can’t help but smile softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t wake, doesn’t need to, and I let him stay in that quiet, safe bubble we’ve created together.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe forever, I feel… completely, utterly calm.
The room is quiet except for the faint beep of the monitors and the soft hum of the hospital’s HVAC. I’m lying back, groggy, head pounding from the concussion, every movement reminding me that last night wasn’t gentle.
I reach up weakly and touch his hand resting near mine. “Leander,” I rasp, voice hoarse.
His head jerks up at the sound, eyes wide, almost disbelieving. My heart aches seeing the flush of excitement and relief cross his face. He’s awake now, and I can see every emotion laid bare.
“I—I can’t believe you’re awake,” he breathes, practically vibrating with joy. “Jax stayed with us the whole night, but he went home to shower. He’ll be back later. I didn’t want to wake you before then, but…” His words tumble over themselves as he reaches to brush some hair from my forehead, eyes shining.
