~Grayson's Point Of View~
Grayson leaves the hotel room without announcing it. He doesn't slam the door, doesn't throw a look over his shoulder. He doesn't make a joke or mutter something self-deprecating on the way out, even though that's usually his thing. He just… goes quietly like a man slipping out of his own life because he doesn't belong in it anymore.
The hallway outside the lodge is cool and softly lit, all neutral colors and expensive. His bare chest still aches beneath the hastily wrapped dressings while every breath tugs at bruised ribs that haven't quite decided whether to forgive him yet.
Behind him, through layers of concrete, glass, and denial… Heidi moans.
It's loud. It's unfiltered. It's so Morgan. Grayson flinches like he's been struck.
