Chapter 33 Luke
THIRTY-THREE
LUKE
“You okay?” Micah asks it so casually it almost doesn’t register.
We’re in the dining hall, grabbing post-practice smoothies as though nothing happened last night after the game. Like I didn’t walk off the field and straight into a heartbreak hangover from hell.
I stir my straw slowly, watching the swirl of mango and something green I probably shouldn’t have added, as though it’s going to tell me the answer.
“I saw him,” I say finally. “At the game.”
Micah doesn’t pretend to be confused. He just lets out a soft breath and leans his elbow on the table. “Silas?”
I nod once.
“He looked the same,” I add. “Maybe a little more tired. Or maybe I just imagined that part.”
“You talk to him?”
I shake my head. “He was walking down the bleachers as I was coming out of the tunnel. We both stopped. Looked at each other. And then…” I huff a laugh, but it doesn’t sound like one. “Then I walked away.”
Micah studies me for a second. “That must’ve sucked.”
“It did,” I admit. “But not like before. Not like the first few weeks when I couldn’t breathe without wondering why I wasn’t enough. But it also…sorta didn’t hurt at all.”
Micah’s quiet again. He’s not a big advice guy, which I’ve always appreciated about him. He just listens.
I tap my fingers on the side of the cup. “Because the only reason he would’ve come to that game—sat through the whole damn thing and took his time leaving—was if he still cared.”
Micah nods slowly, like he gets it.
“He still loves me,” I whisper. “That’s what it felt like. But that doesn’t change anything.”
I’m not sure if I say the last part for him or for myself. Because l want it to change everything, but I’m not stupid, and the rose-colored glasses I was wearing before are gone.
“No,” Micah says gently. “But it’s something.”
I shrug, eyes still on my smoothie. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Micah reaches over and nudges my arm with his fingers “You’re not.”
I smile. “I know. I have you guys. I just meant… I don’t want to keep waiting. Holding my breath for something that might never happen. That maybe shouldn’t happen.”
There’s no judgment in Micah’s expression. No pity either. Which is exactly what I need.
“You deserve to be happy.”
Silas said the same thing in that last message, basically. And yeah, I do. So why not start trying now.
I pull out my phone and open Prism. Scroll a little. Tap on a profile.
Micah glances over, brows lifting. “You thinking about hooking up with someone?”
“Just a date,” I say, too fast. “Not a hookup or a one night stand, but not anything serious. Just… someone who’s safe. Someone who doesn’t make my chest feel like it’s going to cave in.”
He nods slowly. “Are you sure this isn’t about trying not to feel something?”
I pause. Fingers hovering over the screen.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe. Probably.”
He leans back, arms crossed. “I get it. You’re allowed to want real things. Just…this could be a rebound.”
“I do want real things,” I say, softer now. “But I’m tired of feeling like I’m on pause. I don’t need perfect. I just… need to not be alone.”
Micah presses his lips together like he wants to say more—but he doesn’t. He just nods once.
“Okay,” he says. “Just promise me if this starts to feel like hiding, you’ll talk to someone.”
I smile faintly. “You mean you?”
He shrugs. “I’m here. Always. Or you can talk to Daniel.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The bar the guy from the app, Nathan, picks isn’t one I’ve been to before, which is exactly what I wanted. No sticky memories clinging to the walls. No hallways that feel haunted. It’s quieter than Riot, low-lit with warm wood accents and cozy little corners.
We grab a small booth in a back corner and settle in.
Nathan’s easy to talk to. He’s got this gentle smile and a voice that kind of rumbles low, even when he laughs.
His hair is a dirty blond, and he has sparkling green eyes.
He’s cute in a sorta nerdy way. I don’t normally do nerds, but maybe that’s my problem.
He’s not flashy, but he listens. Really listens.
When I tell him about the team, about being a wide receiver and kicking field goals in a pinch, his eyes light up like I’ve just told him I can fly.
And he lets me be me.
I’m teasing. Flirty. A little extra, as always, with the way I lean in and talk with my hands, tossing out sass like confetti. Nathan plays along, laughing and tossing it right back. It feels easy.
It feels good.
Hours slip by like minutes. We order food, share a plate of fries and cheese sticks, and trade stories—his job in the psych department (not a teacher, thank God), my classes, the time I accidentally mooned half the stadium freshman year.
At some point, I catch myself smiling so hard my cheeks ache. I let my hand rest on the table near his. Not touching. But if I want to touch him, we are close enough.
Maybe I can do this.
Maybe I can actually move on.
It wasn’t me. It wasn’t that I was too much or not enough. Silas left because he was scared. Not because I broke something.
The thought settles warm in my chest. I’ve been blaming myself for months, but it was never me to begin with.
And then I look up.
Across the room, behind the long stretch of bar, someone sets a drink on a tray. He wipes the counter. Glances up at something a waitress says.
And it’s him.
Silas.
My heart stutters so hard I almost choke. He’s here. Behind the bar. Wearing black, sleeves pushed to his elbows, jaw tense, as though he’s concentrating on a drink order. He hasn’t seen me yet. And I’m pretty sure he just started, because I would have noticed him long before now.
But I see him.
My breath catches in my throat, and all that easy confidence I was riding? Gone. Flattened. Crushed beneath the weight of memory and muscle and those eyes.
Nathan says something, but it sounds like it’s coming from underwater. My pulse is thunder in my ears. I try to swallow, but my throat won’t cooperate.
I thought I agreed to this place to avoid this. To avoid him.
He looks…tired. And unfairly hot. His hair’s a little messier, the lines around his mouth more pronounced. A few days, the growth of a beard covers his cheeks which is strange for him. But it’s him. It’s Silas, and the world shifts on its axis the moment our eyes finally meet.
Because he sees me. And I see it hit him.
Every ounce of oxygen in my chest disappears. Our eyes lock, and everything else fades. Time. Sound. The weight of Nathan’s gaze from across the table.
For a second, it’s just me and Silas.
The ghost I haven’t stopped dreaming about. The man who gave me a taste of real love and then ripped it away with a message that still haunts my nights.
His face doesn’t change much—just the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes… they go wide for a heartbeat, then shutter fast, as if he regrets being seen. Like seeing me hurts.
Good. That single petty thought filters in, and I reel my emotions back in before they can spill out all over the floor.
I blink once, slow. Let my chin lift. And then I look away. I turn back to Nathan, and I smile.
Even if my chest aches like a cracked rib, I refuse to let Silas take this from me too. I am not the broken kid he left behind.
I’m Luke fucking Maddox.
“Sorry,” I say, voice steady, even if I feel as though I’ve been gutted. “Thought I recognized someone. You were saying?”
Nathan blinks at me, but picks up where he left off, telling me about his dog back home who learned to open the fridge. I laugh in the right places, sip my drink, nod along.
But it’s different now. I can feel it. The space between us. It’s friendly. Easy. Comfortable. And wrong.
Because no matter how warm Nathan’s smile is or how nice it feels to be seen, it’s not the kind of heat that crackles in the air. It’s not the gravity that pulls me in without trying. It’s not him.
Silas never had to speak to set my heart racing.
This—whatever this is—it’s not that. And that doesn’t mean it’s worthless. Maybe this is what healing looks like. Taking a chance. Showing up. Learning the difference between a spark and a flicker. I won’t know until I try, right?
I finish the last sip of my drink and set the glass down a little too carefully, my pulse thudding in my ears. Nathan’s still smiling, still talking, still trying. Even though I’ve clearly gone on auto pilot. He deserves better than a ghost sitting across from him.
“Hey,” I say, cutting in gently. “This has been really nice. Seriously. But would you maybe want to get out of here? Go for a walk?”
Nathan blinks, surprised, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
I stand, sliding out of the booth first, before dropping some money on the table for our bill. The second my feet hit the floor, I feel it—him. The weight of his stare dragging across my spine similar to heat from a flame I can’t un-feel.
But I don’t look. I don’t need to. Because even though it rattles me, even though the part of me that still aches wants to turn and look, I don’t give him that. Not tonight.
I let it fuel me.
One step. Then another.
Head high. Shoulders back.
I walk past the bar without flinching, even though I can feel Silas’s eyes like a brand on my skin. Nathan walks beside me, quiet for once, maybe sensing the tension that buzzes like a live wire in the air. It would be hard to miss.
I push the door open and breathe in the cold night air.
As it closes behind us, I don’t look back. But my hands shake as I shove them into my pockets. Because walking away from Silas Gray? That might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
The wind bites the second we hit the street, slicing through my jacket.
Nathan walks beside me in silence for half a block before glancing over. “Was that an ex?”
I force a laugh. “What gave it away? The way I bolted like a dog from a running vacuum?”
His mouth quirks. “Nah. You were smooth. It was the look on your face. You went all ghost-white for a second.”
I exhale through my nose, trying to laugh it off again, but it just sounds hollow. “Something like that.”
We reach the end of the block and pause at the corner. A bus rumbles by, headlights flashing across our faces.
Nathan shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s cool, you don’t have to explain. Some guys… they get under your skin, you know? Even when you think you’re over it, there’s just something about them. Like your body remembers before your brain does.”
His voice is casual, but there’s something in it—like maybe he knows exactly what he’s talking about.
I glance over. “You too?”
Nathan shrugs one shoulder, not looking at me. “We all have that one, right?”
My chest tightens, but I nod. Because yeah. We do.
Nathan must notice, because he lets out a quiet laugh and looks back at me, eyes soft. “Yeah. Thought so.”
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m trying. I really thought I could—” I break off. Shake my head. “Sorry. You didn’t sign up to be someone’s emotional rebound therapy session.”
“Hey.” Nathan’s tone is warm, not pitiful. “I’m the one who swiped right too, remember?”
That gets a real smile out of me.
“I like talking to you,” he adds. “You’re funny. A little intense. But it’s a good intense.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah. That’s the Maddox charm.”
He nudges me with his shoulder as we start walking again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t mind being the guy who helps you start moving forward. Even if I’m not the one you’re walking toward.”
I swallow hard, throat tight.
We walk another half block in silence before I slow down, hands tucked deep in my coat pockets, breath puffing in front of me in the cold night air.
“I appreciate tonight,” I say quietly, glancing over at Nathan. “I really do.”
He lifts a brow. “But?”
I give him a small, sheepish smile. “But I think I just figured out that this… going out, trying to flirt, putting myself out there—I think I did it to prove I wasn’t broken.”
Nathan tilts his head slightly, like he gets it.
“I’m not ready,” I admit. “Not for dating. Not for anything like that. It’s not what I need right now.”
He exhales, long and slow. “That’s actually a really healthy thing to realize.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, well. Took me long enough.”
“I’ve gone on plenty of dates trying to forget someone,” he says, voice softer now. “Never worked.”
“Same,” I murmur. “Except this was my first. And probably my last—for a while.”
Nathan stops walking and faces me. “You don’t owe anyone your healing timeline, Luke. Least of all a guy you just met.”
I blink, kind of stunned by how cool he’s being about this.
He grins. “Besides, you’re hot. You’ll have a line when you’re ready.”
That pulls a genuine laugh out of me, and I shake my head. “Thanks for understanding.”
Nathan offers his hand. I shake it.
“Good luck, Luke,” he says, stepping back with a smile. “I think you’re gonna be just fine.”
I watch him walk away into the night, and for the first time in a long time… I believe it.