Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
SILAS
The words stick in my throat as I stare down at his blotched and tear-streaked face, wanting—needing—to pull him into my arms and fix every hurt I just caused.
I did this. I made him look like that.
And I can’t stand it.
“Come with me,” I say impulsively.
His breath catches. He blinks, lashes still wet. “What?”
I swallow. The air between us feels thin, fragile. “To see Xavier. I want you there.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“You don’t have to talk,” I say quickly,. “You don’t have to do anything. I just… I don’t want to do it alone. Not today.”
“You said—” He cuts off, brows pulling together. “You said he wasn’t someone I needed to worry about.”
I wince. “That was a shitty way to say I didn’t know how to explain it. He’s important to me. Was important. But you are too. You are right now.”
He goes quiet. His gaze drops to the ground like he’s sorting through a dozen different responses, and none of them feel safe.
I take a step closer, careful not to touch him. Not yet.
“I should’ve said something before,” I murmur. “About Xavier. About why I’ve been distant. I didn’t want you thinking I was still in love with a ghost.”
Luke’s eyes flick back to mine. “Aren’t you?”
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know. Not in the way I was. Not in a way that keeps me from wanting more with you.”
He shifts, arms folding over his chest like armor. “Then why bring me?”
“Because I need to show you I’m not hiding this part of me from you. I don’t want to hide anymore.” My voice cracks on the last word, but I push through it. “I want to try, Luke. Really try. And this… this is part of that.”
He doesn’t say anything. Then, finally—softly—he says, “You sure?”
“No,” I admit. “But I want to be.”
A breath. Then another.
He nods once. Slow. Deliberate. “Okay.”
The tension in my chest breaks like a wave, flooding me with something sharp and aching and real.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just give me ten minutes to go back to my dorm room and change, I can’t go in joggers.”
“Xavier isn’t going to notice what you’re wearing.”
“I can’t meet the man you love looking like a teenager, Silas.”
I step forward before I can stop myself. My hands rise—one to each cheek—thumbs brushing over the tear-streaked heat of his skin. I tilt his face up to mine, heart hammering in my throat.
“You’re the man I love, Luke.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I feel the shift in the air. He goes completely still. Eyes wide. Breath caught. Like I just knocked the air from his lungs. Like I shocked the silence into him.
His lips part, but nothing comes out.
And fuck—Fuck.
I didn’t mean to say that. Not like this. Not now.
The panic hits me hard and fast, burning through my chest. My hands stay where they are, but I swear I see the start of a flinch in his shoulders.
I brace for him to pull back. To laugh it off. To run. But he doesn’t move. He just blinks, as though he’s trying to process the words that are still suspended between us.
You’re the man I love, Luke.
He whispers, “You… you mean that?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
He exhales sharply, a broken kind of sound. Then throws his arms around my waist, face pressed into my chest, anchoring himself there.
And I let him.
I wrap my arms around him and hold tight, grounding myself in the way he fits so perfectly against me.
His voice is muffled against my chest, but I catch it anyway. “Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll go change. And then… I’ll go with you.”
There’s a pause. A heartbeat. Then another.
He shifts slightly, pulling back just enough to look up at me. His eyes are still glossy, lashes clumped a little from tears he pretended weren’t there. His mouth trembles, like he’s fighting the urge to joke. To deflect.
He doesn’t.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Yeah?”
He swallows. Hard. His hands fist in my shirt as though he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go.
“I love you, too.”
The words hit me just as hard as mine must’ve hit him.
I suck in a breath. My chest aches—full, heavy, and relieved all at once. I rest my forehead against his, eyes closing as the truth of it settles in.
“Okay,” I murmur back, voice rough. “Okay.”
He steps back releasing me. “I’ll be fast.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The parking lot is neat, almost too pristine.
Not a single weed between the cracks, the flowerbeds blooming in bursts of color that feel deliberately cheerful—as though they’re trying to distract you from what waits inside.
It looks welcoming. Peaceful, even. But there’s a stillness in the air, a quiet that doesn’t settle.
The kind of silence that makes you whisper, even outside.
Luke’s beside me in the passenger seat, fingers tapping against his thigh, eyes scanning the brick building. He hasn’t said much since we pulled off the highway, but I haven’t either.
Because my stomach has been in knots since I suggested he come with me. And now, as I shift into park, I’m pretty sure I’m seconds away from a full-blown anxiety attack.
I grip the steering wheel, knuckles going white.
“Hey,” Luke whispers. “If you changed your mind…I can stay in the car.”
“No, I want you here.”
He exhales. “Okay, we don’t have to go in yet.”
I nod once, jaw so tight it feels as if I could break my teeth. “Yeah. We do. Sitting out here isn’t going to make this easier.”
But my hand doesn’t reach for the door. Because the truth is, I’m scared. Not of seeing Xavier. That part still hurts, but it’s familiar, expected even. It’s Luke I’m afraid of.
Afraid he’ll see Xavier—what’s left of him—and it’ll change something. Not just between us, but in him. That he’ll finally understand why control matters so much to me. Why I’ve tried to keep people at arm’s length and don’t let anyone in. Except him.
Because once he sees the boy who used to love me, the one I should’ve protected, and failed—
He might realize I’m not worth the risk.
And it’s not like Xavier will even understand what any of it means.
Most days, he doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t remember that we used to be so in love we were stupid, or that I coached him, or how we used to sneak around and kiss like the world would never catch us.
Similar to what I’m doing now with Luke. The similarities are hard to shake.
Xavier’s body is here. His smile sometimes shows up, sure. But he’s gone. And I can’t explain that to Luke without sounding like I might still be hung up on a shell of a man.
I’m not.
But I am still haunted by the wreckage I caused.
Luke shifts beside me, clearly growing uncomfortable with my silence. “Silas?”
I exhale roughly through my nose, force my hand off the wheel, shutting off the engine. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be,” he says. “I’ll be right here next to you when you’re ready.”
And damn it, that…that is what almost undoes me. He doesn’t even know what he’s walking into.
I glance over, and he’s already unbuckling, already has his hand on the door handle, ready to open the door the second I am. As if it’s that easy.
Gathering my courage, I push my door open and step out. He follows, but my steps slow the closer we get to the entrance. The automatic doors whoosh open with a quiet hiss that sounds too much like a sigh. As though even the building feels what’s coming.
We check in, sign the visitor log, do all the things we need to do since Luke has never been here before. Then I lead him past the nurse’s station, where Marcy gives me a soft smile and wave. She knows me. Knows Xavier, and when he’s having a good day or a hard one.
“He’s awake. Quiet this morning."
“Thanks,” I murmur.
I reach for Luke’s hand as we walk the sterile corridor. He squeezes mine, but doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for the silence, for the way he reads the moment and lets it stretch without filling it with jokes or questions.
We reach Xavier's room. I swallow hard as my free hand hovers on the handle.
“You sure I should come in?” Luke asks.
“No,” I admit. “But you’ve come this far.”
I push the door open, and there he is. He’s sitting in the same spot as the last time I visited him almost a month ago.
Guilt pangs through me. The blanket is tucked around his legs, and he has a stuffed animal on the tray next to him.
One of the nurses must’ve brought it in.
He’s a little thinner than last time, and his hair is shorter as if they’ve given him a hair cut recently.
He’s staring outside.
I step in, pulling Luke in behind me.
“Hey,” I say softly, the way I always do. “Xave. It’s me.”
No response. Not yet. Sometimes, he looks. Sometimes, he doesn’t. Then other times he smiles, and it hits me square in the chest. But it’s the times he cries that destroy a part of my soul. Mostly, he just stares.
I release Luke’s hand and cross to the chair across from him and sit. Luke lingers near the door, eyes flicking between us.
“This is Luke,” I say, voice a little unsteady. “He’s, uh…he’s important to me.”
Xavier blinks slowly, meeting my gaze, and there is a little recognition there. A half smile forms on his lips. I’m not sure if he heard me.
Luke moves slowly to the other chair and sits quietly. He’s close enough that his hand brushes my knee, a tiny bit of contact, and that’s enough to remind me that I’m not alone this time.
“Coach?” Xavier’s voice is faint. Rusted from disuse. But it’s there.
My throat tightens instantly. I swallow against the wobble in my lip. “Yeah,” I manage, barely getting the word out. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Xavier’s smile is small, lopsided—fragile. “That game… Southfield,” he says. “You benched me for half the quarter ‘cause I missed curfew. Still threw the winning pass.”
I close my eyes for a beat. That was eleven years ago. He hadn’t brought it up in… I don’t even know how long. “You were cocky as hell,” I say, voice thick. “I probably should’ve benched you the whole game.”
“You couldn’t,” he murmurs, and for a second, there’s a flash in his eyes—bright and sharp and unmistakably him. “You needed me.”
Luke shifts beside me, his hand still brushing my knee like he doesn’t know what else to do but be here. And honestly? That’s more than enough.
He glances at Xavier, then offers a soft smile. “I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he says. “But you’ve got good taste in people.”
Xavier’s gaze shifts slowly to him. His expression doesn’t change at first. Just that same distant calm.
Then, without really looking away, he murmurs, “We’re not supposed to talk about it. Not where people can hear.”
My breath catches.
Luke blinks. “Talk about what?”
Xavier leans forward slightly, eyes bright but unfocused, as if he’s replaying something only he can see. “Coach said it’d ruin everything if we weren’t careful. If they found out.”
My throat tightens. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help. Luke’s eyes flick to mine in surprise, and I shake my head—just once.
“He said I talk too much,” Xavier continues, quieter now, like it’s a secret. “Said people would notice if I didn’t shut up about how good he looks in gray sweat pants.”
Luke lets out a small breath. “He does look good in gray.”
That earns the smallest smile from Xavier—barely there, but unmistakable. Then he nods, pleased, and murmurs like it’s obvious, “He’s mine.”
It’s a gut punch. That smile.
It’s small and a little crooked, but it’s his.
And for a second—for one breathtaking second—it’s almost as if I’m twenty again. Like I never let him step back onto that field. Like everything after never happened.
“He’s mine,” Xavier murmurs again, soft and sure.
My chest aches, tight and full of too much emotion. Luke squeezes my knee, steady and silent beside me.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I just try to hold on to the moment—but then Xavier blinks, his brow furrowing. His gaze flickers between us. Slowly. Distant.
“Who are you?” he asks.
The words land like stones.
He looks right at me, then Luke, blinking like he’s just woken up in a strange place. “Did you say there was a game today?”
I exhale slowly, blinking through the sudden sting in my eyes. “No, Xave. No game today.”
He hums under his breath, nodding as if he understands. His eyes drift back toward the window. The smile’s already gone. A blank look filling his whole face. Luke doesn’t say anything. He just presses his hand tighter to my knee, grounding me, keeping me from falling apart like I want to.
Because this is what loving Xavier became—moments that flicker like dying light bulbs. And I let it happen to him. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him from playing when it mattered.
Now all I can do is show up.
Even when he doesn’t remember me.
The sun’s warmer out here than it has any right to be, not when I’m feeling like this. Like the universe didn’t just take something from me again.
Luke walks beside me, quiet. He hasn’t let go of my hand since we left Xavier’s room. I haven’t let go either.
When we reach the car, I stop beside the passenger’s door and turn to him, the words already forming, low and cracked in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, eyes on the pavement. “For what he said. For calling me—”
“Don’t.” His voice is gentle but firm, and then he’s stepping closer, arms slipping around my waist. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”
My breath hitches.
Luke tips his head back so he can look at me, eyes shining—not with pity, but something fiercer. Kinder. Real.
“If Xavier was in his right mind,” he says softly, “it would still be true. That kind of love doesn’t just vanish. Not really.”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Because I want to argue. Want to say he’s wrong. That I would’ve chosen Luke. But the truth is I never would’ve met him if Xavier hadn’t—
But none of that matters. So instead, I reach up and cradle the back of Luke’s head, resting my forehead against his.
“He’s not competition,” I whisper.
“I know,” Luke says.