Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Silas
The film room feels too small even though I'm the only one in it. My hands won't stop moving, rewinding the same play over and over like studying tape will somehow fix what happened with Scout only hours ago.
Twelve hours since she walked out with an overnight bag.
Twelve hours since I watched her drive away.
I switch to a different game, pretending to analyze the opposing team's power play formation. But Scout's face keeps replacing the players on screen. The way she held herself so still when she said she needed space.
Not breaking up. Just… she needed space. Space means she's still considering us, right? She’s not done with me yet? God I hope not.
My fingers drum against the desk, then move to the remote, then back to the desk. The urge to break something hums under my skin, not from anger but from fear that's eating me alive from the inside out.
Scout didn't give me anything to fight. She just asked for space and left.
"You look like shit." Hunter's voice cuts through the silence. I didn't hear him come in, but suddenly he's there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
"Fuck off," I mutter, but there's no heat behind it.
He walks in anyway, because Hunter's never met a boundary he respects when it comes to family. Jett follows him, then Beck, and finally Thorne. They don't hover or corner me, just spread out around the room like they're claiming territory.
"Early morning film session?" Jett asks, sprawling in a chair.
I don't answer. My jaw works like I'm grinding glass between my teeth.
Beck snorts. "Right. Because you're definitely watching that tape and not just sitting here spiraling."
"Leave it alone," I warn.
"What'd you do?" Thorne kicks his feet up on the desk. "Hunter said Scout stayed in his spare room last night."
Her name hits me like a check into the boards. My whole body goes rigid, and something must show on my face because Hunter straightens up.
"What happened?" he asks. “She wasn’t exactly talkative.”
The words stick in my throat. I can't tell them about StatMan or the app or the months of lying. But the truth forces its way out anyway, stripped down to the simplest version.
"I fucked up. I wasn't completely honest about something and Scout found out. She said… she needed space."
Hunter snorts. Jett actually laughs. Beck rolls his eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head.
"That's it?" Hunter asks. "You had a fight?"
My hands clench into fists. "It wasn't just a fight."
"So you had a big fight," Thorne says, like that changes nothing. "Welcome to relationships, buddy."
I'm too confused by their reactions to care about the condescension. They're not looking at me with pity or disappointment. Hunter actually seems amused.
"Like you would know about relationships," Hunter says, looking at Thorne. "In all the time that I've been on the team, you haven't hooked up with the same girl twice."
"Fuck off," Thorne replies, giving Hunter a lazy grin. "That doesn't mean I don't have common sense."
"You all think I'm being dramatic?" I ask.
"I think you're being an idiot," Hunter corrects. His voice is warm, comfortable, the way you talk to someone you love who's catastrophizing. "Juliet and I fight all the time. Sometimes she storms out and stays at her sister's. Then we talk it through and move forward."
Thorne's voice goes quieter than usual. "Fighting doesn't mean it's over."
"Scout left," I say. "She chose to walk away rather than deal with my shit."
"Good for her," Jett says. I whip my head around to glare at him. He holds up his hands. "I'm serious. She's got boundaries. That's healthy. It doesn't mean your relationship is over."
"Couples fight," Hunter says simply. "People get hurt and work through it. If every argument ended a relationship, none of us would still be standing."
"To be fair, most of us are bachelors for life," Beck grunts.
"Hockey's really hard on any relationship. We're on the road so much and when we aren't, we're either at practice or resting. There's not a lot of room for girlfriends."
"My point is that until Scout breaks up with you, I don't think you should be preparing yourself for the worst."
My chest feels too tight. Growing up, mistakes meant punishment or silence. In hockey, they cost games, contracts, trust. The only way I learned to survive was to lock everything down, take the hit alone, and never let anyone see me break.
Yet sitting here, these guys are telling me something completely different.
"I lied to her," I admit, the words scraping my throat raw. "I mean, a lie of omission. But still."
"Then you apologize and do better," Beck says. As if it's that simple.
"What if she doesn't forgive me?"
Hunter shrugs. "Cross that bridge if you come to it. You're sitting here assuming the worst when nothing's actually ended."
The realization hits me slowly, like sunrise through blackout curtains. Scout walked away, but she didn't say we were done. She said she needed space. Time to think. Those aren't the same thing as goodbye.
"But I don't know how to fix it," I say.
Thorne sucks his teeth. "You show up and be honest. And you let her decide if she wants to try again."
My breathing starts to even out. The panic that's been clawing at my chest since Scout left loosens its grip slightly. I'm still scared, still uncertain, but the urge to self-destruct fades.
"I keep thinking I shouldn't have wanted her in the first place," I admit.
Jett makes a disgusted noise. "That's the dumbest thing you've ever said, and you once tried to fight three guys in a 7-11 parking lot."
I shake my head. "That was different."
"No, it wasn't. You were scared then too." Hunter moves closer, his expression serious now. "Listen. Wanting Scout doesn't make you weak. But being scared of wanting her does."
Beck stands, stretching. "We can sit here all night talking about feelings, or you can accept that you fucked up, she needs time, and that doesn't mean your world is ending."
"Thanks, man."
They start to filter out, but Hunter hangs back. He waits until the others are gone before speaking again.
"She'll come home tomorrow," he says quietly. "And when she does, you need to be ready to have a real conversation. I don’t mean just you eating shit. You need to actually talk about why you did what you did."
"I know."
"Good." He claps me on the shoulder. "Come hit the weight room when you’re ready.”
I sit in the empty film room for another hour. The game tape runs on silent now, players moving across the screen in patterns I'm not really seeing.
I think about Scout's face when she left. Not angry, not vindictive, just tired. Tired of carrying my fears along with her own. Tired of being the only one taking risks.
My phone sits heavy in my pocket. I pull it out and stare at our last text exchange from this morning. She sent me a reminder about my PT appointment. I sent back a thumbs up.
I don't text her. Not yet. She asked for space and I'm going to give it to her. But I don't delete our conversation or block her number or any of the other self-destructive things I would've done before.
Hunter's right about one thing. Nothing has actually ended yet.
The thought is terrifying.
It's also the first hope I've felt in two hours.
I close the laptop and stand, my body stiff from sitting in the same position too long.
My whole life I've treated every mistake like a death sentence. Every argument was like the end of the world. But the guys are right. Couples fight and survive. People hurt each other and heal.
For now, I head to the locker room to change into my workout gear and haul myself into the gym.