chapter 172

chapter 172
Grace's POV:
When Maverick's discharge papers finally came through three days ago, when we packed his few belongings from the sterile hospital room and drove back to Skyline Residence, I had steeled myself for the memories that would assault me the moment I crossed the threshold.
The living room where we'd shared our first real conversation as a couple. The kitchen where he'd made me breakfast with that rare, unguarded smile. The bedroom where we'd tangled together in sheets that still carried the ghost of his cologne.
But it was the garden that undid me.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the oak's canopy, casting dappled shadows across the small stone marker nestled between its roots.
Someone—Maverick, I realized with a pang—had planted white roses around its base, their petals luminous against the dark earth.
The inscription was simple, almost stark in its brevity: Zeus. Loyal unto death.
I sank to my knees before the grave, my fingers tracing the carved letters as if I could somehow reach through stone and time to touch the creature who had given everything to save me.
The memories came then, no longer fragmented or shrouded in the fog that Dr. Thorne's hypnotherapy had wrapped around my consciousness for two long years.
They crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave—Zeus's warm body pressed against mine during those days at the Skyline Residence, the way he would rest his massive head on my lap when I cried, the fierce intelligence in his amber eyes as he positioned himself between me and any perceived threat.
And then, with brutal clarity, that final night: Sebastian's men breaking down the door, the flash of a blade, Zeus launching himself at my attacker with a snarl that still echoed in my nightmares.
The blood. So much blood, spreading across the marble floor like a dark tide.
My vision blurred, and I blinked rapidly, trying to force back the tears that threatened to spill.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to hold it steady. "I'm so sorry it took me this long to come see you. I forgot—God, I forgot everything, and you were here all alone, and I—"
The words caught in my throat, and I pressed my palm flat against the cool stone, willing some part of his spirit to hear me, to understand.
I thought of Maverick, of the day I had asked Noah where he was taking me, and he had hesitated before telling me about this place.
How I had insisted on coming here instead, some instinct driving me toward him even when I didn't fully understand why.
I had found him sitting in the darkness beside this grave, his shoulders rigid with grief he couldn't name, and though I hadn't known then what Zeus meant to him—hadn't understood the depth of loss carved into every line of his body—I had stayed.
Sat beside him in silence while the autumn wind scattered leaves across the weathered stone, offering nothing but my presence because it was all I had to give.
I understood his fractures now, truly understood them.
Warm arms encircled me from behind, and I leaned back instinctively into Maverick's solid chest.
He must have been watching from the house, waiting to give me this moment alone before joining me. His chin came to rest on the top of my head, and I felt rather than heard the deep breath he drew.
"He wouldn't blame you." His voice was rough, carrying the weight of his own grief and guilt. "Zeus never held grudges. He'd probably just be annoyed that you didn't bring him any treats."
A wet laugh escaped me. "I'll bring some tomorrow. Those bacon ones he liked, if they still make them."
I twisted in his arms to face him, reaching up to cup his jaw.
The fading bruises from the accident were almost invisible now, pale yellow ghosts of the purple and black that had terrified me in those first hours after surgery.
"I love you," I said quietly. "All of you. "
His arms tightened around me, and we stayed there as the sun sank toward the horizon, two people learning how to grieve together instead of apart.
---
Night had fallen by the time I emerged from the bathroom, my hair still damp from the shower and my skin flushed from the steam.
The penthouse was quiet, the city lights twinkling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like earthbound stars, and for a moment I simply stood in the doorway, letting the peace of it wash over me.
Then I caught the acrid scent of tobacco smoke.
Maverick stood on the balcony, silhouetted against the glow of the city, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
The ember flared orange as he took a drag, and I watched the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine.
He was thinking about Zeus—I knew it with the certainty that came from years of learning to read him, years that had been stolen from me and were only now beginning to reassemble themselves in my mind.
I padded across the living room on bare feet, the cool hardwood grounding me as I slid open the balcony door.
He turned at the sound, and something flickered across his face.
"You should be resting," he said, but there was no real censure in his voice. "The doctor said—"
"The doctor said you needed to reduce stress and avoid strenuous activity." I stopped beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body despite the cool night air. "I don't think smoking counts as rest."
He lifted the cigarette, examining it with detached interest. "Old habit. Thought I'd kicked it years ago, but—" He shrugged, the movement sharp and abbreviated. "Some nights are harder than others."
I reached out and intercepted his hand before he could bring the cigarette back to his lips, my fingers closing around his wrist with gentle but unmistakable intention.
He raised an eyebrow, watching me with that inscrutable expression that had once intimidated me and now simply made me want to crack it open and expose the vulnerability beneath.
"Give it to me."
"Grace—"