Chapter 104 Aslan
Aslan
That mental break I needed?
That time away from everyone—everyone being, realistically, just Garrett—to detox, sort out my head, and let every other part of my body stop making catastrophically bad decisions?
Gone.
Completely gone.
I walked the school grounds, trying to breathe for the first time since the accident, but the silence had turned overwhelming.
Crownwell had never felt like this—empty, wrong.
The few students who hadn’t made it either to Canada or home didn’t exactly seem in a festive mood. Everyone moved from one building to another like zombies out of place, drifting through the cold evening in slow, disconnected patterns.
Usually, when my mind got like this, I went to the stables. The horses always helped. The smell of hay, leather, and warm breath.
The quiet. The rhythm… But today that was absolutely out of the question.
There was too much of Garrett there.
Then again, there was too much of Garrett everywhere, because no matter what I did or where I went, I knew he was only a building away, in his dorm, injured, hurting, and completely alone.
I mean, who the hell leaves an injured son in a dorm during holiday break?
Granted, it wasn’t Christmas yet, not really, but Garrett’s room wasn’t exactly winter wonderland material, and he wasn’t precisely the most self-uplifting person I had ever known.
As the sky darkened into evening, worry began to settle in my chest.
Maybe I should check on him.
I stopped walking.
Seriously?
That was not a good start.
But what if he needed something? Food, help moving around… company.
Oh, my God.
He would be just fine.
To get my mind off it, I went back to my room and buried myself in work.
I pulled out the files from my art internship and started going through the cataloging notes I had been meaning to organize for days. At first, it helped. For a couple of hours, at least.Then my focus started drifting again.
So I cleaned the bathroom.
Then reorganized the tiny closet space I had somehow already managed to destroy.
Then I restacked my notebooks.
Then I reorganized them again.
After that, I called my mother to give her the great news.
The second she picked up, her voice immediately softened. “Hi, baby. How are you doing?”
I smiled despite everything. “I wanted to tell you I got my exam results. I got all As, Mom. And I passed the riding test too.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see you!”
A laugh escaped me, small but real. Talking to her helped.
A little.
After we hung up, I called Kate.
The moment she answered, I didn’t even bother easing into it.
“Hi, babe. How are you doing?”
“Garrett got thrown from a horse yesterday. He broke a couple of bones.”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end.
“Oh shit, that’s awful! You'll have to tell me all about it. I can’t wait to see you!”
I froze.
Then I started laughing. The contrast was so absurd I couldn’t help it. That was the story of my life—one of sand and one of cement.
By the time the call ended, it was almost dinner.
And somehow, despite all the cleaning, organizing, calling, pacing, and trying not to think, my mind had done absolutely nothing except circle right back to him. So I went to the cafeteria and forced myself to eat. Or at least I tried a few bites and a couple sips of juice before my thoughts started looping again.
Was he eating?
Had anyone checked on him?
Could he even get down here on crutches?
Was Olivia still there?
I stared at my tray for another minute. Then exhaled sharply.
“Okay,” I muttered under my breath. “Fuck it. You win.”
I stood, grabbed an extra tray, loaded it with food and a drink, and headed for Garrett’s dorm.
As I reached Garrett’s door, I stopped.
There was no sound coming from inside, no TV, no music, not even the irritated muttering I half expected from him.
A fresh wave of worry crawled up my spine. Was he asleep? What if I woke him? Maybe I should just go, but what if he was awake, just lying there in pain? Hungry? Or worse… What if something had happened?
My hand hovered over the knob for a second before I finally placed my palm against it and tested whether it was locked.
It wasn’t.
My head immediately started screaming.
No, no, no. What the hell are you doing?
Oh my God, walk away. Walk away.
Two seconds later, I was already inside.
The room was dim, lit only by the small lamp on the nightstand. Olivia wasn’t there, just Garrett, in bed, asleep.
The television was still on, muted images flickering across the wall in shifting shadows. His cast leg had nearly slipped off the pillow someone had placed beneath it, leaving his ankle angled in a way that made my stomach tighten.
“Garrett?” I whispered.
No answer.
I glanced toward the nightstand and saw the neat row of painkillers lined up beside a half-empty glass of water.
Shit, this would put a horse to sleep.
Carefully, I set the tray down on the table and moved closer. His shoe was still half on, the laces loosened but not undone, like he had been too exhausted or too drugged to finish. My chest twisted at the sight.
Slowly, carefully, I knelt beside the bed and eased the shoe off. Garrett didn’t stir.
I lifted his cast leg with both hands, as gently as I could, and settled it properly back onto the pillow, adjusting it until it rested in a position that looked less painful.
Then I pulled the blanket higher over him.
The room was colder than it should have been. I crossed to the window and realized it was still cracked open.
I closed it softly, shutting out the winter air, then turned back toward him.
For a long moment, I just stood there watching him, and I realized Garrett looked… different like this.
Peaceful.
The sharpness that was always carved into his face had softened in sleep. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, and for once there was no pain, no sarcasm, no fear, no challenge in his expression.
Just quiet.
God, he was beautiful.
I sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, unable to make myself leave.
My gaze drifted over the pale line of his jaw, the messy blond hair falling over his forehead, the bruising still faintly visible near his temple.
I reached out and brushed my fingers lightly against his arm, the touch barely there, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin.
Garrett let out a low sound, half a breath and half a moan of pain, and in his sleep his hand moved, fingers closing instinctively around mine.
I froze, every muscle in my body going still, but I didn’t pull away—I couldn’t.
Instead, I sat there, letting him hold my hand, watching him breathe and feeling that strange, impossible peace that only ever seemed to exist when I was near him.
Before I could even make sense of what I was doing, I shifted carefully and lay down beside him on top of the covers, leaving enough space not to jostle his leg.
Just in case he needed help, just in case he needed me… at all.