"It's not your responsibility," Mom interrupted, her voice stronger now. "You were just a child yourself."
"No, I was an adult in college, I should've looked to see if he'd…" Grayson looked down at his hands.
"How could you have known he had another woman and child?" my mother said softly. "There was no way you could have known."
The room fell silent again. Outside, rain began to patter against the windows, soft and insistent. Like time itself, refusing to stop for our grief.
"I think," Jackson said, speaking for the first time since we'd sat down, "that there's been enough pain caused by one man. Maybe it's time to focus on healing instead."
His eyes met mine, and I saw something there, something pure yet worn. Something real.
I looked at my mother—her face tired but peaceful now that her secrets were out—I knew I had to try to make my peace with all of this. For her sake, if not my own.
"I'd like that," I said softly.
25
ELENA
Grayson's voice was calm, but there was something tentative in it when he said, "I think that's perfect too."
He glanced at Mom, then added, "I'd love for Meredith to meet you once she's discharged… but I'm not sure how you'll feel after the treatment."
My stomach twisted.
"Treatment?" Mom asked, her brow furrowing.
Grayson nodded, his hands folded in front of him like he was trying to stay composed. The silver threading through his dark hair caught the harsh hospital lighting, making him look both distinguished and vulnerable at the same time.
"It's already paid for. Experimental, but promising. The least I could do, considering Elena saved my sister. Our sister."
That word—our—hit me like a punch to the chest.
I wouldn't have thought it could carry so much weight, and yet it did.
Grayson stood before me, offering salvation when I'd all but lost hope.
"We've already contacted the best doctors," Grayson said, his voice steady but gentle as he turned to me. "If your momagrees, we can transfer her to Ironstone tonight. The specialists are waiting, and Leo's made all the arrangements. Everything's taken care of."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The words stuck in my throat, trapped behind the lump that had formed there. This man, my brother, was offering the one thing I couldn't provide. A chance for my mother.
I hadn't even had to ask.
I looked at Mom. Her thin face was gaunt from months of illness, her once vibrant eyes dulled by pain medications and resignation. But something flickered there now—a spark I hadn't seen in weeks.
Her lips trembled. "You would do that? For us?"
"Of course," Grayson said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You're family."
And then I broke.
The sob tore out of me before I could stop it, ripping through my carefully constructed walls. Months of fear and anger and desperation crashed over me like a tidal wave. I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the flood, but it was too late.
"Thank you," I choked, stepping into Grayson's arms like I'd done it a hundred times before.
He held me tight, warm and solid, his cologne smelling faintly of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine. His arms wrapped around me with a familiarity that felt impossible—we were strangers, yet somehow not.
"We've got a lot of catching up to do," he whispered against my hair.
