Chapter 47: A little too close

Chapter 47: Chapter 47: A little too close

Freya reached him and slowed, breathing hard from the run, her eyes moving over him fast, cataloguing the damage.

"Garrett. Are you okay?" She reached toward his arm, then stopped short of actually touching him, like she wasn’t sure where it was safe to. "Your face...you’re bleeding a little, and that’s already bruising."

"I’m fine," Garrett said.

He straightened up as he said it, rolling his shoulder back like that proved something. It cost him more than he wanted to admit, a sharp pull along his ribs that he kept off his face through sheer stubbornness.

Freya’s eyes narrowed. "You just got jumped by three guys. You’re not fine."

"I’ve had worse."

"That’s not the reassurance you think it is."

Garrett started walking anyway, toward his building, keeping his pace even through effort alone. Freya fell into step beside him, arms crossed, clearly not finished with the conversation but letting it go for the moment.

He made it maybe six steps before his body disagreed with the decision.

The ache in his side flared sharp enough that his breath caught, and his hand shot out to the brick wall beside him, bracing his weight against it before his legs could make the choice for him.

"Garrett."

"I’m good." Even he could hear how thin that sounded now.

"Stop." Freya moved in front of him, arms uncrossing, her voice losing the light edge it had carried a second ago. "Stop pretending you’re fine and let me help you."

Garrett exhaled slowly, jaw tight, more irritated at his own body than at her for calling it out. He wasn’t embarrassed. He just hated that the one thing he wanted to do right now, walk to his own door under his own power, was apparently more than his ribs were willing to allow.

Freya stepped in without waiting for him to agree, sliding under his arm and bracing herself against his side, taking on some of the weight he’d been trying to carry on his own.

"I’ve got you," she said. "Just walk."

Garrett hesitated for half a second, the instinct to shrug her off still there, still telling him he could manage this himself. But the wall behind him and the ache in his side argued otherwise, and he let it go, allowing her to take some of the weight.

They moved slowly, one careful step at a time. Her hand stayed braced against his ribs, steadying him whenever his stride caught wrong.

Somewhere along the way, without really deciding to, Garrett’s hand came down over hers, holding it in place where it rested against him.

It wasn’t planned. He told himself it was just to steady her grip, keep her from losing her footing under the weight, nothing more calculated than that.

They both stopped walking for a second.

Garrett looked at her.

Freya looked back, something in her expression he didn’t try to name, something that hadn’t been there a minute ago.

Neither of them said anything.

The moment sat there longer than either of them probably meant it to, quiet in a way that had nothing to do with the pain in his side.

Freya broke it first, her gaze dropping, a small, almost embarrassed shift in her posture. "Uhhm..." Her voice came out quieter than before. "...We should probably get you home."

"Right," Garrett said.

They kept walking.

The rest of the walk went the same way, slow and careful, Freya taking more of his weight than he wanted to admit he needed.

"See," Garrett said, forcing something close to normal into his voice as they reached his door. "Not that bad."

"You’re basically limping."

"I’m pacing myself."

She didn’t bother arguing the point, just kept a hand steady against his side while he fumbled his key into the lock with his free hand.

Inside, the adrenaline that had gotten him this far started fading fast, and everything it had been covering for came through all at once. His ribs ached with every breath now, sharper than before, and his knuckles had started stiffening up where he’d caught most of the first hit.

Freya guided him to the couch, and this time he didn’t argue about sitting down.

She crouched slightly, studying the split above his eyebrow, the bruising already darkening along his jaw. "Let me clean you up at least. You’ve got a cut that needs looking at."

"I’m fine."

"You keep saying that." She raised an eyebrow. "It’s not getting more convincing."

"I’ve handled worse on my own."

"I’m sure you have. Doesn’t mean you should have to right now." She nodded toward the bathroom. "Where’s your first aid stuff?"

Garrett opened his mouth to refuse again, some automatic part of him already lining up the same answer.

Then his phone lit up on the table beside him.

He glanced at the screen.

[TIME REMAINING: 6 DAYS, 9 HOURS, 41 MINUTES]

He looked at it for a second, the reminder sitting there quietly against everything that had just happened to him.

This was the entire reason he’d gone to her door yesterday in the first place. Getting to know her. Letting something real happen instead of forcing it.

And here she was, already trying to take care of him without being asked twice.

’Letting her help isn’t losing anything.’

"Cabinet under the sink," Garrett said finally.

Freya blinked, apparently not expecting him to give in that easily, then nodded and disappeared into the bathroom without commenting on the shift.

She came back with the kit, sat beside him, and got to work without much ceremony, cleaning the cut above his eyebrow first, careful but efficient.

"This is going to sting a little," she said, and it did, though Garrett didn’t react beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.

For a while they didn’t talk about anything heavy. Freya asked whether there was anything else that hurt, and Garrett gave her the basic answers without making much of them. She checked the bruises she could see, asked a few practical questions, and he answered them without much complaint.

Then, while dabbing at a bruise along his jaw, her tone shifted.

"Emiliana’s causing you a lot of trouble, isn’t she?"

Garrett went still for a second. "You heard that."

"All of it." She didn’t look away from what she was doing, focused on his jaw, though her voice had gone quieter. "I was on my way back when I saw the three of them corner you. I heard enough before things got physical."

Garrett didn’t say anything right away.

"I know Emiliana," Freya continued. "Not well, but everyone kind of knows her. She’s popular. People are always around her, and not just the harmless kind." She glanced at him briefly before going back to the bruise. "So Raymond isn’t exactly a surprise to me. Someone like her, there’s always somebody else attached, watching, deciding who gets to be close to her."

"Didn’t realize it came with an audience."

"It usually does, with someone like her." Freya’s hands paused for a second, just barely, before continuing their work. "How did you even end up getting close to her in the first place? People like that don’t exactly go unnoticed when someone starts getting close to them."

There was something underneath the question, something Garrett couldn’t quite pin down, though he noticed it all the same.

He felt the conversation sliding right back toward the one subject he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night explaining.

"Can we talk about something else?" Garrett said.

Freya’s hands stilled completely this time. She looked at him, clearly caught off guard by how fast he’d shut the door on it.

Garrett held her gaze but didn’t offer anything more.