Chapter 22 #2
This wasn’t just desire anymore. Terran was a need so profound that it scared me to my core. Rooted deep around my heart until there was nothing left but the twined thorns dug in deep, leaving their lasting mark regardless of whether my desire to pry them off was there or not.
It wasn’t about the rush of having him beneath me, his voice breaking on my name as I claimed him, as intoxicating as that was.
No.
It had shifted, evolved into something far more dangerous.
We’d become intertwined, not just in those fleeting moments, but in the quiet spaces between. The places where connection settled and grew, binding us in a way that felt unshakable. It was the kind of thing poets wrote about, the kind of thing I’d only deemed for the lovesick.
I wasn’t a romantic. Far from it, actually. The idea of love, soulmates, fate—it had always felt like a poor concocted fantasy constructed by people who clung to it out of fear of being alone. But Terran made me want to. He made me want to believe in all those things I’d once dismissed as foolish.
He made me want to believe in intrinsic connections and destiny.
“Don’t fight it, Silas.”
My gaze snapped to Avery.
He shook his head at me. “I’m serious. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re happy, and that’s okay. It’s going to feel weird because you never let anyone in like that before. But whoever this guy is, it sounds like he can handle you just fine from what Blake was saying.”
A soft snort escaped me, unbidden, as a brief release of the tension slowly let up in my chest.
Blake.
Of course, he’d been at the head of the discussion. I had no doubt the second he and Marlow were shoved out my front door, they’d debriefed the entire way home, rattling off every single scenario that they could come up with to explain the stranger in my house, wearing my clothes.
Probably still were every night before bed, too.
Marlow grinned. “He’s got a good judge of character. So, if he approves, then we all do.”
My shoulders slowly eased. Such an easy thing to say. As if life were that simple.
They weren’t judging me. Neither of them were questioning me, either. They were supporting me unconditionally and without hesitation, just like they always had. Just like I’d never asked them to and they continued to no matter what kind of sourness I threw at them.
“What’s holding you back?” Avery asked.
Everything.
Nothing.
My own goddamn fear.
“I...”
“Look…” Marlow pressed both of his hands flat against the table, a serious look crossing over his features.
“We’re not saying any of this is easy. Letting someone in gets messy and complicated.
Trust us. But Avery’s right, Silas. I have never, in the entire twenty-five years I’ve known you, ever seen you this hung up on a guy before.
You let him sleep over and wear your shit and live in your house.
You’re trying to get him a lawyer to keep him from getting sued.
You care about him. Hell, you probably even lo—”
Avery socked him hard in the arm. “Marlow. Let’s not freak him out just yet.”
He choked out a groan and clutched his bicep, withering in his seat instantly. “Oh, come on!”
“Anyway…” Avery fixed me with a look. “What he said is mostly true. Relationships can get messy but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.
My favorite thing is when Brandon comes home from work and I get to finally spend the rest of our evening together making dinner and listening to him tell me about his day.
Life doesn’t need to be so complicated all the time. The little things are what matter.”
“You’ve turned into such a housewife.” Marlow snickered. “What happened to the housekeeper?”
Avery hooked two fingers around Marlow’s ear lobe and tugged on it, hard enough to make him wince. “Maybe if you came over more, you’d know. Silas isn’t the only one avoiding my place.”
“I’m helping Blake prep for next season, sue me!”
“I don’t want to hear any excuses from you.”
Shaking my head at them, I loosened the stiff grip I had around the business card Avery had given me. Glancing down at it, the phone number wavered as I tilted the card slightly to catch the light again, the gold foiling flashing once more.
Terran was worth it.
I could try to convince myself otherwise, try to cling to the illusion that pushing him away was the right thing to do for both of us.
That by stepping back, by letting him go and setting him free, I was somehow saving us both from the inevitable pain of trying to make something work when the odds were stacked against us.
It was a nice lie. One I could tell myself over and over again during those lonely nights when I reached toward the other side of the bed and found it cold and empty.
Deep down, I knew better. I always had. I was only deluding myself into believing that anything could scare me away permanently.
I could shove him out of my life and pretend that I was doing us both a service.
Saving us both the time and energy of trying to struggle through whatever this thing between us had become.
And maybe, for a while, it would even work.
Maybe Terran would get the message and stop trying to contact me.
I’d avoid anything remotely connected to the 199th precinct, make a point to stay far away from him and convince myself that it was for the best. Life would return to some semblance of normalcy—or at least, I’d convince myself it had.
But normalcy was a funny thing.
It didn’t erase the cracks. It didn’t fill the empty spaces left behind. And I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that the absence of him would settle into my life like a hollow ache. A quiet hum in the background that I could convince myself to ignore most days.
Until one day, on a cold and cruel winter evening, as I stood at the window of my too-empty house, watching the snow drift down to coat the earth, it would hit me.
I’d think about the way Terran’s laugh used to echo in the quiet corners of my home, the way his touch had felt like a lifeline that grounded me in a way I’d never known I needed.
I’d remember the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, and his quiet murmurings in the faint hours of the morning when he thought I was still asleep.
The silence would be absolutely deafening.
In that moment, I’d realize how much I’d truly lost. How much I’d given up in the name of self-preservation and control. I’d realize that pushing him away hadn’t saved either of us—it had only condemned me to a life of quiet regret, a life where I was safe but not the same and never would be.
Letting out a slow breath, I leaned back in my chair and pocketed the card. “All right.”
Marlow’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you actually—?”
Avery socked him in the arm again. “We’re not going to question it because we’re happy for you. Right?”
He groaned through his teeth. “Yes... very.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice quiet. “Both of you.”
“We’ll only accept your thanks in the form of you bringing him around for the holidays.”
Assuming he actually accepts any of this...
“Fine.”
Avery smiled. “Perfect. Now, go get him.”