Page 45 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Grayson

I step out into the hallway. The hospital fluorescents buzz above me, and the scent of antiseptic is sharp in the back of my throat. I pull my phone from my pocket with fingers still crusted in fading bandages and blood, my thumb hovering over the contact that’s never saved under a name.

Just a number.

But I’ve known it by heart since I was eight.

The line rings twice. Then, “Gray.”

Not a question. Just certainty.

I swallow hard. “Hey. I know it’s late. ”

There’s a pause on the other end, long enough that I consider hanging up.

“You’re breathing. So’s the girl. Which means everything else is background noise.”

My jaw tightens. The familiar rasp of his voice is always calm, always controlled, like nothing ever surprises him. Probably because nothing does. Not when you’ve built an empire on secrets and blood.

“I just...” My voice breaks a little. I clear my throat. “I know what you did. After.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can picture it, his office; quiet, spotless, glass of whiskey half full. Like Alberto never existed, like my phone call is just another transaction in a long ledger of debts.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly.

Now he laughs, a low, unimpressed sound. “Of course I did. He touched what’s ours.”

I flinch at the word.

Ours.

But he doesn’t mean Rowyn the way I do. He means bloodlines. Honor. Territory.

“She’s not a pawn,” I say. “She’s not leverage.”

“She’s family,” he replies, cool and even. “And I take care of family.”

There’s silence again, heavier this time.

I glance back toward the room. Through the sliver of the open door, I see the warm spill of light, the curve of her blanket, the shadow of Lyndsy sitting on the edge of the bed. My chest aches.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” I murmur. “Even if… even if I never wanted this part of it. The cleanup. The legacy. I—”

“You’re not ready,” he cuts in. Not harsh, just matter-of-fact. “But you will be. You made a decision that night. You protected her. You called me. That’s not weakness, son. That’s command.”

I let the words settle. They feel like iron. Heavy. Final.

“I didn’t do it for power,” I say.

He hums. “Good. Power built on love lasts longer than fear.”

That silences me.

I never thought I’d hear that from him.

“Get some rest,” he adds. “And Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“You did right. Just don’t make a habit of needing my kind of help.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone in my hand for a beat longer, then slide it back into my pocket.

I lean back against the wall just outside Rowyn’s door, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor with my knees pulled tight to my chest, the phone still cooling in my palm like a dead weight.

My dad’s words linger in my ears, but they’re drowned out by something louder, something closer.

The memory of Phoenix’s mouth against mine.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t rehearsed. It just was . Raw, impulsive and real in a way I hadn’t let myself believe existed.

It rattled me.

Not because I didn’t want it. God, I wanted it. I just didn’t know I was allowed to. Not after a lifetime of expectations, of labels, of straight lines I thought I had to color inside.

But that kiss…

It shattered all of that, and now I don’t know what to do with what’s left.

There’s Rowyn, asleep just feet away, patched together with IVs and courage, and the kind of softness that makes you hope . There’s Nix, Phoenix, who’s always been chaos wrapped in charm, who’s cut through me in a thousand different ways over the years without either of us naming it.

And now he knows.

Knows I see him.

Knows I want him.

And worse, or better, he kissed me back like he’d been waiting forever for permission .

I bury my face in my hands.

What does that mean for us?

For her?

For everything?

I thought loving Rowyn was the thing that cracked me open and maybe it was, but Phoenix filled a piece of me I didn’t know was hollow until it wasn’t anymore. Now I’m standing in this strange, beautiful space that terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.

Because this?

This is real .

Not adrenaline. Not impulse.

It’s love.

Messy, unexpected, complicated-as-hell love.

And the scariest part?

I don’t think I’d change it. Not any of it.

So I sit there in the hallway, alone with my storm, and let myself feel every wave of it.

The guilt. The relief.

The fear.

The want.

Because after everything we’ve been through, we deserve more than just survival.

We deserve truth.

Even if it scares the hell out of me .

Phoenix

I find him slumped outside the hospital room, legs folded up, head tipped back against the wall like the ceiling might have answers he hasn’t found on earth.

For a second, I don’t say anything.

I just watch him.

Because in all the years I’ve known Gray, I’ve seen him cracked. I’ve seen him furious. I’ve seen him take punches no one else could and stand taller because of it.

But I’ve never seen him like this.

He looks like he finally let himself feel everything he’s been holding back, and now it’s swallowing him whole.

I move slowly, dropping down beside him with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t look over.

“Got room for one more in your pity party?” I offer, voice soft.

He huffs out a breath, half-laugh, half-collapse, but doesn’t speak.

So I do.

Because if I don’t say it now, I’m not sure I ever will.

“I meant it, you know. That kiss. Every second of it.”

His head turns. Barely, but I catch the flicker in his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Gray,” I continue, voice low and hoarse. “Not just as a teammate. Not just as some ride-or-die best friend who bleeds with you when the world comes down.” I pause. “I’ve loved you the way I never thought I was allowed to love a boy like you.”

He sucks in a breath.

I keep going.

“Rowyn didn’t pull this out of me. She showed me it was okay to feel it out loud. She made space. For you. For me. For us , and now I’m sitting here scared out of my mind that you regret it. That you’ll file it away as some crisis response.”

Gray’s lips part. His eyes are glassy now.

“You think I’d kiss you like that because I was scared?” he rasps.

I shrug, voice catching. “I think you don’t know if you’re allowed to love both of us without breaking something.”

He turns fully now, knees brushing mine. His voice is raw when he speaks.

“I broke the second I thought I might lose her, and again when I realized I’d been losing you in silence for years.”

A hush falls over us, but it’s not cold.

Not distant.

It’s full. It breathes .

Finally, I reach for his hand. Not hard. Not pulling.

Just offering.

He takes it.

And for the first time since everything began, I see peace settle behind his eyes like a truth that’s stopped running.

We don’t need to say it again.

But we will.

Tomorrow.

And the day after that.

Until the world knows this kind of love doesn’t ask permission—

It just is.