Chapter 12 Silas
Silas
Some people find peace near the ocean, in the woods, or on a mountain.
For me, it’s the smell of the ice, the sound of blades slashing across a fresh rink, and the sight of my teammates horsing around like brothers.
The only difference from a normal practice, aside from not heading to the locker room to gear up, is that instead of the usual punk rock blasting through the speakers, the Disney playlist Aubrey has been obsessed with lately filters through the sound system.
Oakley fails miserably at concealing her laughter, but the real treat is realizing half the O-line is twirling and dancing at the direction of my nine-year-old sister.
Aubrey is in the middle of them, purple helmet slightly crooked, cheeks pink, ponytail swinging as she yells at the guys around her.
She giggles and dances along as she critiques each man’s form.
The music cuts off, and everyone—my sister included—sprints for the other end of the rink.
“Guess the loser is skating suicides again,” I mumble to Oakley as we try to stay hidden.
“This a regular thing?”
I shrug. “Sometimes Thorn lets her help with training plans.”
As they all near our end of the ice, I almost feel bad for the ones coming in last. No surprise, Aubrey isn’t one of them.
Granted, the fact that my lineman has his arms looped under hers and is propelling her forward might have something to do with it.
When he spins her giggling form into the boards, she catches sight of us.
Her squeal is loud enough to cause the ones near the bench to flinch.
“Did you see how fast I was going? Uncle Rookie made me go even faster than normal, but I stopped all by myself a bunch of times!”
“I did see, speed monster.” My heart nearly dropped from my chest until I realized who had hold of her, if I’m being honest. “Better and better every time.”
She slings herself through the gate and into Oakley Kate’s arms, nearly taking out the crutches in the process.
The force of Aubrey’s tiny body nearly knocks them both over, and I barely stop myself from reaching forward to steady them.
My sister’s little arms wrap tightly around her favorite person’s neck, and not for the first time, I quietly pray this isn’t a terrible idea.
“You’re really back,” she whispers against Oakley Kate’s chest, and when Kates looks up at me, her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
Shit. We’re all screwed. I can see it now. There will be no separating these two, and the more Oakley Kate is around, the harder it will be to let her go when she inevitably leaves again.
“I can see you a bunch, right?”
Kate’s eyes stay locked on mine until I give a subtle nod.
Her throat works to swallow past a knot, and I swear I can see the war she’s fighting in her eyes.
She wants to keep her heart safe, but this kid might make that impossible.
The guardian in me is grateful she didn’t blurt out an automatic yes, but the part of me still hopelessly in love with her wonders if she’s ready to dive headfirst into this storm.
“You can see me however much your brother lets you, okay, sweetie?”
Aubrey beams up at Oakley as the two work off her gloves before dropping onto the bench. Their heads are already bent together, voices low like time hasn’t stolen years between them.
I move down to Thorn, who is leaning against the boards with a whistle between his lips.
“Get off my ice, Harrison,” he grumbles without looking up.
Naturally, I ignore him and mirror his stance. My reflection ghosts against the glass in front of us, and I barely recognize the guy staring back at me. Deep, dark lines around the eyes, shoulders carrying the weight of being both brother and parent... How am I still standing?
“She was good, then?” I ask softly, not wanting Aubs to overhear.
“Always is, Silas. She even helped Hannah clean out that back room and turn it into a little movie theater.”
“No nightmares, then?”
“None. No panic attacks, either.” He blows the whistle three times before finally looking at me. “She’s adjusting to the change, man. Now it’s your turn.”
I glance over my shoulder when Oakley laughs at something Aubrey says, the sounds from both girls sounding happy—alive—for the first time in a long time.
If only it were that simple.
Because it isn’t. Nothing about change ever is.
Thorn makes it sound like flipping a switch—like I can just decide to loosen my grip on control and everything will magically fall into place—but he doesn’t live in my head at night when the silence gets too loud.
He doesn’t wake up every few hours to check if the front door is locked or if the alarm is set.
He doesn’t have a nine-year-old who still crawls into his bed almost every night because of nightmares.
And he sure as hell doesn’t have Oakley Kate Slater standing twenty feet away, laughing like she hasn’t haunted my dreams for the last five years.
She looks so at ease with Aubrey, almost like she never left.
For one dangerous, fleeting second, I let myself imagine it—what it would look like if this were permanent.
If I could walk off this ice, wrap my arms around both of them, and finally breathe without feeling like the world’s waiting to take something else from me.
But then reality hits—like a slapshot to the gut.
Oakley doesn’t want the life I wanted. The one I still want. She made that clear when she packed her things and left that morning without looking back.
And yeah, I told myself I understood—that I didn’t blame her; that losing what we lost would’ve broken anyone—but sometimes understanding doesn’t quiet the ache.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, watching her tuck a stray hair behind her ear before helping Aubrey unlace her skates. Her laugh carries over the boards, soft and familiar, and something in my chest fractures all over again.
It’s been five years, and I’m still off my game. One look from her could bring all my defenses crashing down.
Aubrey needs me steady. Predictable. The one constant she can trust.
And if that means keeping my heart locked down—if that means watching Oakley Kate love my sister without letting her anywhere near me—then so be it.
She already broke me once. I can’t afford to risk her doing it again.
I can handle hits on the ice, broken bones, or torn tendons. Hell, I’ve taken pucks to the face and played the next shift. But this? Watching her ease back into my life like the missing piece she’s always been? That’s the kind of pain I can’t tape up or ice down.
A shout echoes across the rink, and I drag my gaze from Kates back to Thorn as he calls out a new drill. I nod like I’m listening, but all I can think about is the sound of Oakley’s soft voice and the way Aubrey clings to her like she’s finally found home.
That word—home—hurts more than it should. Home used to be an equal mix of the ice and wherever Oakley Kate was. Now, I skate and protect Aubrey as best I can, but it doesn’t feel the same. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what it feels like to just belong.
Thorn elbows me lightly. “Quit brooding and go see your girls before you scare the whole damn team with that look.”
I snort, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, because nothing says intimidating like Disney music and a nine-year-old running drills.”
He smirks. “You’re not fooling anyone, Harrison. You’re wrapped around both their fingers and you know it.”
He’s right. I’d probably even say it out loud if I didn’t think it’d bite me in the ass. I shove my hands into my pockets and head back toward the bench, every step heavier than the last.
Oakley looks up when I reach them, her smile soft but guarded. Aubrey is nearly shaking with excitement, and damn it if this isn’t exactly what I’ve been missing.
“All right, Bug,” I say, reaching for Aubrey’s hand. “Let’s hit the showers before you start running the team for real.”
She giggles, swinging our joined hands, and Oakley watches us with that quiet expression that undoes me every damn time.
Yeah, if only any of this was simple.