Chapter 13 Silas
THIRTEEN
SILAS
I shouldn’t have gone.
I tell myself that the entire drive back. Over and over, like it’ll undo the image of him pressed up against someone else, laughing like he wasn’t ignoring me.
Or maybe that’s why he looked so free—because he was pretending I didn’t exist.
I scrub a hand down my face as I step inside my apartment, flicking the light on and locking the door behind me. The place feels too quiet. Too clean. Too empty.
There’s still sweat on my neck, dried tight on my skin from standing there like a fucking statue all night, nursing one drink, watching Luke flirt and dance and burn me alive without even touching me.
And then he left.
On someone else’s arm.
I sit heavily on the couch, elbows on my knees. I shouldn’t care. That was the deal, right? No strings. Just a one-time thing that turned into a locker room mistake. Then another mistake. And now another.
Except it’s not a mistake if I can’t stop wanting it.
I grab my phone.
My finger hesitates over the Prism icon, pulse ticking in my jaw. Then I tap it.
BornforTrouble
I stare at the chat we haven’t used since meeting for our one-night hookup. This is crossing so many lines. Still, I type.
Me: I’m sorry for tonight. I’m sorry for benching you too. You were right, I was being overly cautious.
I stare at the screen, the cursor blinking. That should be it. But I’m not good at stopping when I should. Not with him. Not anymore.
I keep typing.
Me: It wasn’t about your knee. It was about me. About something that happened to someone I…failed…
I close my eyes. My thumb hovers over the touch pad. Then I let it all pour out.
Me: His name is Xavier. He was nineteen. Smart. Fast. Charismatic as hell. I coached him for two years at the beginning of my career.
He took a hit during practice one day. Light contact. Something that should’ve been nothing.
He stood up, brushed it off, said he was fine. Wanted to keep playing. I let him back in.
I inhale and squeeze my eyes shut as I remember everything from back then. Blinking the moisture gathering in my eyes away I continue.
Me: He was fine that day. Then he was hit again at the next game. He got a concussion.
Took the time off he was supposed to, even though he didn’t want to.
However, I had to stop him from practicing. The very next game, he took a bad hit. He collapsed on the field.
That hit gave him a traumatic brain injury. Now he’s in a full-time care facility. No memory.
A shaky breath that sounds almost like a sob parts my lips, and I swipe at the tears that are now free falling. But still I keep going.
Me: No speech. No recognition of anyone. Me, his parents, his sister, it’s all gone. I go see him all the time. He doesn’t know who I am.
I sit back, staring at the words. I’m not telling him I loved Xavier. Just knowing that it was my bad call of letting him play again so soon after his concussion is what caused his brain injury is enough for now. Maybe Luke will understand why I benched him over something he deems small.
Me: I benched you because I couldn’t not. Because the idea of you going down on my watch made me sick.
Not because I don’t think you’re strong. Or capable. But because I…
The cursor blinks again, the previous messages staring at me. Still no reply, not that I thought he would reply, he left with a guy—he’s probably in his bed right this second. Fuck. Don’t think about it.
Me: I care. Too fucking much.
At least now he knows. Even if it doesn’t change a thing. Even if a real relationship could never work between us.
I set the phone down and lean back, staring up at the ceiling through my tears, heart thrumming like a war drum in my chest. The truth is, I already lost the one person that I thought was the love of my life. And I don’t think I can survive doing it again.