Chapter Thirteen Joshua
Chapter Thirteen
Joshua
I leaned back into the couch, head tipped against the wall, the sound of brushes scratching against canvas filling the room.
Jennie’s giggles blended with Alex’s soft hums as he concentrated, both of them bent over their easels like the world began and ended with those strokes of colour.
But mine? My world was stuck on the bleachers.
On her.
I could still see her, those wide, startled eyes when the ball slammed into the metal by her head.
The flinch.
The yelp.
The way she dropped everything as if she wanted to disappear. And then… the saint-like way she walked over, gave me back what I’d forgotten.
Pathetic saint. That’s what I’d called her. That’s what my mouth spat out instead of the only thing I actually felt.
I’m sorry.
Jennie squealed softly, delighted at some shade Alex mixed for her, and I glanced over. Her cheeks were lit up, Alex’s lips tugged into a quiet, rare smile. They were in their own little world.
I wasn’t.
My leg bounced harder. I gripped the edge of my hoodie, knuckles white. Her face, her silence, her damn kindness replayed on a loop. And under all that, she was turning to him. She was smiling at him.
I pressed the heel of my palm to my chest. My heart didn’t slow. Didn’t stop fucking pounding like she was still right there in front of me. Like she wasn’t slipping further and further away every time I opened my mouth.
“Joshy.”
I looked up, jaw tightening, and found Jennie tilting her head at me.
“I told you not to call me Joshy,” I muttered.
“If she calls me Lexi, then you’re fucking Joshy,” Alex chimed in, not even glancing up from his canvas, his strokes sharp, focused.
“Whatever.” I scoffed, dragging my gaze away.
Jennie leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong? You avoiding someone, so you came here to sulk?” Her tone was light, teasing, but it hit. Right in the ribs.
“I—” My voice caught before I could bite it back. I flicked my eyes between them, their stupid matching scrunch-faced expressions making it worse. “Sorry. Am I third-wheeling?”
“Ew.” They both said it at the same time, like I’d offended them by even thinking it.
I clenched my jaw, staring down at my bouncing knee.
“I…” The word came out rough, unwilling. I turned away, eyes fixed on the paint-splattered floorboards. “…want you to teach me sign.”
The sound Jennie made could only be described as a choke. “Excuse me?”
Alex finally looked up from his canvas, brow raised. Curious. Not surprised exactly, but not unaffected either.
Jennie blinked at me as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Sign language? You want to learn?”
“Yeah.” I forced the word out flat, controlled, as if it wasn’t already giving away more than I wanted them to know.
Jennie’s eyes darted to Alex, her grin widening with mischief. “Well… good news. Lexi here knows sign. He volunteers at my parents’ school all the time.”
Alex groaned, dragging his brush down the canvas harder than necessary. “Jennie.”
“What?” She laughed, holding her hands up innocently. “It’s true.”
“I know the basics,” Alex muttered, setting the brush down and rubbing his temples. “I’m not teaching him. If he’s desperate, you teach him.”
Jennie looked between us, eyes shining like she’d just stumbled across the juiciest secret.
“Oh, I’m definitely teaching him. But…”—she squinted, leaning closer—“…why do you want to learn, Joshy?” Her tone was sly, testing, as if she already knew the answer but wanted me to say it.
I didn’t. My lips pressed into a hard line, my silence loud enough that even Alex flicked his eyes over, sharp and knowing.
“Forget it,” I muttered, standing up, tugging my hoodie down over my chest as if it could hide the weight pressing there.
But Jennie wasn’t letting it go. Not with that smile curving at her lips, not with the way she tapped her chin like she’d just put two and two together.
“Is it for a girl?”
Jennie’s voice cut sharply, casual but pointed. I looked at her, holding her gaze, trying to keep my pulse steady.
She didn’t know. She couldn’t know.
“No,” I said evenly, though my jaw ached from the effort. “Can’t I just… find a hobby?”
Jennie scoffed, leaning back in her chair, arms folded. “A hobby? Joshua, you study your ass off, you’re an athlete, and you’re an heir. Do you even have free time to pick up a hobby?” She tilted her head, curiosity carved across her face.
“I’m right here, aren’t I? Clearly free,” I shot back, my tone edged.
“Shove that attitude up your ass,” Alex said flatly, not even looking away from his painting. He flicked his brush, his voice dripping with that signature don’t-give-a-fuck energy.
I sighed, rubbing my palms against my thighs, dragging one hand down my face hard enough to sting. My chest hurt from holding everything in, from pretending it wasn’t eating me alive.
“Please.” The word slipped out before I could catch it. My voice cracked, quiet, raw. My throat tightened, but I forced it out again. “Please. Teach me.”
Jennie’s mouth actually fell open.
I never said please.
Not to anyone.
Her eyes widened, flicking to Alex as if to confirm what she had just heard wasn’t a hallucination.
Alex stopped mid-stroke and frowned at me, also surprised at the sudden ‘please’ from me.
I rolled my eyes and turned away. These idiots.
Jennie’s grin slowly returned, sharper than ever. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her eyes sparkling.
“Sure. I’ll help. Whenever you’re ready, let me know, but ask Alex too sometimes,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “He knows. He can translate for you if you get stuck.”
My eyes snapped to Alex, narrowing. He didn’t even bother looking up from his canvas.
“Because she asked,” he said flatly, dragging his brush through a streak of blue like this conversation was background noise.
I leaned back against the couch, exhaling sharply. “So I am third-wheeling.”
“Fuck off. It’s different,” Alex replied instantly, his tone clipped, matter-of-fact.
Jennie stuck her tongue out at me, smug, like she’d just scored a point. She knew what she was doing, rubbing it in.
Alex might’ve been my best friend first, but he’d always drop anything for her.
The biggest soft spot.
Bullshit.
Didn’t matter. I didn’t give a shit.
“Thanks, Jen,” I muttered finally, keeping my voice low, even. Jennie’s smile softened just a fraction, like she’d caught something under my tone but decided not to poke.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about how fucking stupid I probably looked.
For a girl. Yeah, it’s for a girl. So what? Why does the motive matter?
I glanced up, eyes catching Jennie and Alex in the middle of their usual bickering.
“Give me your card!” she demanded, pouting, reaching across his easel.
“You have my card in your damn phone,” he muttered without looking up, paintbrush moving steadily.
“Alex! Give me!” she whined louder, stretching out her arm. He finally glanced at her, unimpressed, then placed his palm flat against her forehead and pushed her back like she weighed nothing before shifting his full attention back to his canvas.
“You have two of my cards in your damn phone. Use those. What the fuck.”
“One,” she countered, smug.
“Two. You have two,” he corrected, voice laced with suspicion.
“Two,” she continued. And he froze mid-stroke again, eyes still on the canvas.
“Jen—”
Her lips quirked, victorious. “Three.”
He groaned, defeated, shoving his wallet into her palm. “I fucking hate you.”
She giggled, flipping it open as if she’d just won a prize. “You love me, Lexi.”
I shook my head, turning back toward the window, tuning them out. The laughter, the easy closeness, they grated on me.
I wonder if she’d give me what she gave Miles… if I knew her language. If I were able to see her out loud instead of quietly from my own corner.
I pictured her smile, the one she’d given him. That tiny blush on her face when she whispered back to him, like he’d just unlocked something only she kept hidden.
She looked at him as if he saw her.
Like she forgot I was there first.
“I saw you with Campbell,” Alex said suddenly, dragging me out of my thoughts.
My head snapped toward him. Aurora?
Why is he suddenly mentioning her?
Jennie lit up, nodding fast. “Aurora? Oh my God, I love her. She’s literally so pretty. Like, unreal. Have you seen her?” She practically rolled her eyes back as if she’d just remembered some goddess walking among us. Which, fine. Spot on.
“The mute one?” Alex asked casually, not even looking up. My jaw tightened.
But Jennie was quicker; she reached over and jabbed her elbow into his side. “Hey. She’s not mute. Don’t call her that.”
Alex raised a brow but didn’t argue, just let her talk.
“She has SM,” Jennie continued, softer now, like she wanted to make sure it came out right. “But she’s… she’s really sweet. Like, really sweet. Honestly, the cutest thing alive. She joined our group just yesterday, officially!”
SM. What the fuck is SM?
The word sank into me, heavy, sharp, like it was supposed to explain her, but it didn’t.
“SM,” I repeated, my voice flat.
Jennie nodded, as if it was obvious. “Selective mutism. It’s like…
a trauma response. Kids or even teens, adults sometimes, they go through something terrible, something that shakes them, and then their body just…
” she exhaled softly, shrugging, “shuts down when it comes to speaking. Not everywhere, not with everyone. Just in situations where their brain feels unsafe. Like, they want to talk, but their voice doesn’t come out.
It’s not a choice; it’s their body deciding for them. ”
Her words blurred in my head, pressing against my skull until it was hard to breathe.
Fuck, she must’ve gone through hell before me. Before Silverwood. Before I even knew her name. And that’s why she didn’t speak.
She couldn’t.
Not because she was cold.
Not because she was ignoring me.
Not because she was stubborn.
Because her body, her mind, didn’t let her. And what the fuck did I do?
I made it worse.
Every word I threw at her, every time I cornered her, every fucking look, every name, I pressed on a wound I didn’t even see.
Jennie kept going, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my chest. “She’s honestly the sweetest. She blushed at literally everything I said.” Jennie giggled, kicking her feet a little. “She’s so easy to adore. Just… you look at her, and you want to protect her, you know?”
Her voice was light, casual, but every word felt like a knife turning in my ribs. Protect her.
Adore her.
Keep her safe.
Fuck. I’d done the opposite.
I’d taken a girl who already lived in silence and pressed her deeper into it.
I thought she was ignoring me, thought she was too good to speak, too delicate, too quiet. I called her fragile as if it were an insult. I thought breaking her walls would make her bend to me.
But she wasn’t choosing silence. She couldn’t speak. And all I did was add more reasons for her body to lock her up.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, dragging my hands down my face until my skin burned.
If she ever hated me, I deserved it. But I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t fucking stop.
Jennie was still talking, bright and bubbly, painting Aurora as if she were sunlight itself. Alex muttered something about colours, about the painting, about whatever, but it all blurred into static. My ears rang. My chest was heavy.
Every word Jennie spoke felt like she was peeling back another layer of Aurora I hadn’t been allowed to touch. And I couldn’t—couldn’t—hear it anymore.
I shoved off the couch, grabbing my jacket off the armrest.
“Where the hell are you going?” Alex asked, not even looking up from his canvas.
“Out,” I clipped, voice rough.
Jennie’s brush froze mid-stroke. “Joshua?”
I didn’t look at her. Didn’t look at either of them. If I stayed, I’d hear more about Aurora’s blushes, her little smiles, how she trusted them. Not me. Never me.
The door clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing through Alex’s penthouse as I stormed down the hall.
It was wrecking me. Completely.