Chapter 13 Let her go
The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical wheeze, and Greyson's feet felt like they were made of lead as he stepped into the sterile corridor. The smell hit him first antiseptic and floor wax, the clinical scent of a place where hope and despair lived side by side. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, unforgiving glow that made his skin look sallow in the reflection of the polished. Liam had run towards Logan.
Behind him, he could hear Logan's measured footsteps and Liam's excited chatter about the hospital vending machines they'd passed in the lobby. The kid had been talking sense since they'd left the house, his nervous energy filling the silence that had stretched betweenthem . Greyson had barely spoken during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
"Room 314," Logan said quietly, his voice carrying the same professional tone he'd used when explaining Cassie's condition. Stable. Recovering. Lucky, considering the circumstances.
Greyson nodded, though he wasn't sure he believed in luck anymore. Not when it came to his family. Not when it came to the people who got caught in their orbit.
The hallway stretched before them, lined with identical doors marked by plastic plaques and privacy curtains. Somewhere behind one of those doors, machines beeped steadily, monitoring heartbeats and breathing patterns. Somewhere else, a television played softly, the familiar cadence of a daytime talk show providing background noise to recovery and grief.
Room 314 was halfway down the hall, its door standing slightly ajar. Through the gap, Greyson could see a slice of the room white walls, a window with blinds drawn against the afternoon sun, the corner of a hospital bed with its mechanical rails and sterile sheets.
He stopped just outside the door, his hand frozen on the metal frame. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. What if she looked at him the way everyone else did? What if she saw his face and remembered who he was, what his name meant, what his family had done to hers?
"Wait," Logan said behind him, his voice low enough that Liam, who had wandered down the hall to peer into the window of another room, couldn't hear.
"Before you go in there, we need to talk."
Greyson turned, studying the older man's face. Logan's expression had shifted from professional courtesy to something more personal, more protective. It was the look of a father who had watched his daughter ask for someone who could destroy her.
"The cafeteria," Logan said, nodding toward the elevator. "Ten minutes."
It wasn't a request.
Logan called to Liam, who came bounding back with the enthusiasm of a ten-year-who'd discovered the hospital had a gift shop with stuffed animals. "Why don't you pick out something for Cassie while your friend and I grab some coffee?"
"Can I get the teddy bear with the doctor coat?" Liam asked, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Of course," Logan said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Take your time. We'll be right back."
The cafeteria was nearly empty in the mid-afternoon lull, just a few tired looking residents grabbing coffee between shifts and an elderly woman picking at a sandwich while she waited for visiting hours to resume. Logan led Greyson to a table in the corner, away from the handful of other patrons, and settled across from him with two cups of coffee that looked strong enough to wake the dead.
"You want to tell me what this is really about?" Logan asked without preamble.
Greyson looked up from his coffee, startled by the directness of the question.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Don't play games with me, son."
Logan's voice was calm but there was steel underneath it.
"Cass is off limits .You've been hovering around her like a guardian angel, and now you're here looking like you haven't slept in a week. So I'll ask again: what is this really about?"
Greyson was quiet for a long moment, staring into the dark surface of his coffee. How could he explain that from the moment he'd seen Cassie in that warehouse, something had shifted in his chest? That she'd looked at him and seen something worth saving, just like her father had eight years ago?
"I care about her," he said finally.
"That's not what I asked." Logan leaned forward, his hands clasped around his coffee mug. "I've been watching you, Greyson. The way you look at her, the way you protected her. This isn't just about repaying a debt or doing the right thing. This is personal."
Greyson met his eyes, seeing the same perceptive intelligence that Cassie had inherited. There was no point in lying to a man who had spent years reading people in their most vulnerable moments.
"Yes," he admitted. "It's personal."
"Why her?" Logan asked, his voice softer now but no less serious. "Out of all the women in this city, why my daughter?"
The question hung between them, heavy with implications. Greyson knew what Logan was really asking. Why risk everything for someone he barely knew? Why put Cassie in danger by association? Why choose the one person whose involvement could start a war?
"Because she's the first person who's ever looked at me and seen me," Greyson said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not the Wolfe name, not the reputation, not the money or the power or the fear. Just me. And because when she looks at me like that, I remember what it feels like to be human."
Logan was quiet for a long moment, studying Greyson's face with the same intensity he probably used to diagnose patients. When he spoke, his voice was measured, careful.
"You know what you're asking, don't you? What being with her would mean?"
"I know," Greyson said. "I know that my family will never accept her. I know that being associated with me puts her in danger. I know that every day she's with me is a day she could get hurt because of who I am."
"And you're willing to risk that? To risk her?"
"No," Greyson said quickly. "I'm not willing to risk her. That's why I've been staying away. That's why I keep telling myself to walk away and leave her alone."
"But you can't."
"No," Greyson admitted. "I can't."
Logan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "You saved her life. Twice. That has to count for something."
"Does it?" Greyson asked. "Or does it just balance out the fact that she needed saving because of me in the first place?"
"That's not on you," Logan said firmly. "What your family did, what they chose to do that's not your responsibility."
"Isn't it?" Greyson's voice was raw with self-doubt. "I'm an O'Malley. Violence follows me everywhere I go. People get hurt just by being near me."
"People get hurt by being near doctors too," Logan said dryly. "Disease, accidents, death it's all part of the job, that doesn't mean we stop caring about our patients. It means we work harder to protect them."
Greyson looked up, surprised by the comparison. He's still a caring human being he thought, whats he scared of ?
"You want to know what I think?" Logan continued. "I think you're scared. I think you've spent so many years being told you're dangerous that you've started to believe it. But I've seen dangerous, son. I've treated the victims of dangerous. And you're not it."
"You don't know me," Greyson said quietly.
"Don't I?" Logan challenged.
"I know you carried my unconscious daughter out of a burning building. I know you put yourself between her and your own family when they came for her. I know you've been beating yourself up for three days over something that was never your fault. That doesn't sound like dangerous to me. That sounds like someone who cares so much it's eating him alive."
Greyson was quiet, absorbing the older man's words. It was strange to hear someone speak about him with such certainty, such faith in his character.
"What are you saying?" he asked.
"I'm saying that if you care about my daughter...really care about her,then you need to be honest with her. Stop making decisions for her about what she can and can't handle. Stop protecting her from the truth because you think it's better for her. She's stronger than you think, and she deserves to know where she stands."
"If I tell her how I feel and she doesn't."
"Then you'll deal with it," Logan interrupted. "Like an adult,but you can't make that choice for her. You can't decide that she's better off without you without giving her a say in the matter."
Greyson nodded slowly, understanding the weight of what Logan was telling him. It wasn't just about honesty it was about respect. About treating Cassie like the strong, capable woman she was instead of some fragile thing that needed to be protected from the truth.
"You're right," he said finally.
"I usually am," Logan said with a slight smile. "It's a doctor thing."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Finally, Logan spoke again.
"For what it's worth, I think she cares about you too. The way she's been asking about you, the way she lights up when someone mentions your name that's not just gratitude."
Greyson felt something warm unfurl in his chest at the words. Hope, maybe. Or possibility.
"Thank you," he said. "For this. For everything."
"Don't thank me yet," Logan said, standing up. "Thank me after you've been honest with her. After you've given her the choice you've been trying to make for her."
They walked back to the pediatric wing in companionable silence, Logan's words echoing in Greyson's mind. Be honest. Give her the choice. Stop protecting her from the truth.
As they approached room 314, Greyson could hear Cassie's voice drifting through the partially open door, mixing with what sounded like a nurse's professional tone. The sound made his chest tighten with something that felt dangerously close to hope.
"You ready for this?" Logan asked, his hand on the door frame.
Greyson took a deep breath, thinking about everything that had led him to this moment. The overdose, the rescue, the years of trying to be better than his name. The warehouse, the accident, the three days of wondering if he'd lost his chance before he'd even taken it.
"Yeah," he said, and for the first time in days, he meant it. "I'm ready."