Page 33 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Phoenix

“ T ell me again why we’re letting Rowyn distance herself from us?” I ask, dropping onto Gray’s bed like I own the place which, honestly, I practically do. He’s half-dressed, all muscle and quiet tension as he pulls on a hoodie, jaw tight enough to snap bone.

He doesn’t answer right away, he just runs a hand through his hair like the silence might smooth the guilt out of his spine.

“You read the report,” he says finally.

Yeah. I did. The silence after I finished it still echoes between my ribs. Foster care. Alberto. The abuse. The kind that doesn’t leave just bruises, it rewires a person from the inside out.

“We were assholes,” I say.

“Worse,” Gray says, his voice low. “We were just another kind of trap.”

That sits in the room like smoke. He doesn’t deny it, neither do I. All those biting comments, the too-close touches, the ways we cornered her like a game... We thought she liked it. Or that, at least, she could take it. But now?

“She hasn’t texted,” I say, more to myself.

“I know.” Gray’s voice is tight.

“She needs space.”

“She needs protection,” he snaps, then exhales hard. “From him, from us, from everyone.”

I study him. The way his fists keep clenching, the storm in his eyes, and underneath it all... something softer. Something breaking.

“You care about her,” I say, but it comes out quieter than I meant it to. “Really care.”

“I always have,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know how to show it.”

That knocks something loose in me.

Because Gray’s not just protective. He’s beautiful when he hurts, and maybe I’m just cracked enough right now to see it differently than I used to.

That edge in his voice. The ache when he says her name, the weight in his silence.

I’m seeing it all new, and it’s hitting in places I didn’t even know were listening.

I lean back on the bed, half-grinning because it’s easier than saying any of that out loud. “Guess we’re both screwed.”

He glances at me. “What do you mean?”

“I think I might want her too badly to pretend it’s casual anymore,” I say. Then I let my eyes drag over him. “And you.”

His expression doesn’t shift, but I see the stutter in his breath.

We’ve got bigger problems right now but somewhere in this mess, something is shifting between all three of us.

And I’ll be damned if I let either of them slip away.