Chapter 18
Ash
Idon't know how long I sit in Coach's office before the door opens. Long enough for the adrenaline to leave. Long enough for guilt to settle into its place.
My elbows rest on my knees, my hands pressed against my forehead as I replay the last twenty-four hours for what has to be the hundredth time.
I told Coach. The thought still twists in my stomach.
Kai trusted me with something he'd hidden from almost everyone. Then I'd turned around and told someone else.
I know why I did it.
I know I would've hated myself if I hadn't.
That doesn't make it feel any less like a betrayal.
The office door clicks open. I look up immediately. Coach walks in first and Kai follows a step behind him.
Relief hits me so hard I nearly stand too fast. He's here. His eyes are swollen from crying. His hair is still damp from the game, and dark circles sit beneath his eyes like bruises. He looks exhausted in a way I've never seen before.
But he's here.
Coach catches my eye. “Take him home.”
I nod before he finishes speaking.
Coach looks at Kai for a long moment. “You've got tomorrow morning off.”
Kai nods quietly. “Yes, Coach.”
“No skating.”
Another nod.
“No gym.”
“Okay.”
“And answer your damn phone.”
Kai manages the smallest smile. “I will.”
Coach's expression softens.
He claps Kai once on the shoulder before looking at me. “Take care of him.”
“I will.”
“I know you will.”
He leaves us alone. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence isn't hostile anymore. It's simply tired.
I stand and pick up Kai's equipment bag before he can reach for it. “I can carry—”
“I know.”
I sling it over my shoulder anyway. He doesn't argue. That worries me almost as much as everything else.
The walk to the parking lot feels awkward. Usually, Kai fills silence by pointing out random things.
Buildings. Clouds. Books he wants to buy.
Tonight, he simply walks beside me. Close enough that our shoulders brush once. He doesn't move away. I unlock the truck. He climbs into the passenger seat without a word. By the time I start the engine, his head is already resting against the window. The city slips past us in silence.
Streetlights paint brief bands of gold across his face before disappearing into darkness again.
About ten minutes into the drive, his voice barely rises above a whisper.
“Ash?”
“Mhm?”
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?” I glance toward him.
His eyes remain fixed on the windshield.
“For everything.” The words come slowly. “For pushing you. For yelling. For saying those things.” He swallows. “I didn't mean them.”
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “It's alright.”
“No.” His voice cracks. “It isn't.”
I shake my head. “Kai.”
“I'm serious.” He finally looks at me. “I scared you. I used you. Only at first but still. I was using you like a drug to forget everything and I—” he hiccups. “Worst of all, I scared you. I never wanted to do that.”
I don't answer immediately.
Because he's right.
Not when he shoved me.
Not when he yelled.
Not even when he told me to leave.
What frightened me was seeing how completely overwhelmed he'd become. Seeing someone who normally apologized for taking up space suddenly explode because he'd run out of room inside himself. I reach across the console and squeeze his knee.
“I'm still here.”
“You shouldn't be.”
I pull the truck onto the shoulder of a quiet side street.
“I'm choosing to be.” I look him in his eyes. “You don't have to keep apologizing.”
The engine idles. I unbuckle my seat belt. “Kai.”
The second I say his name, he breaks.
His face folds in on itself. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
I reach for him immediately.
He practically falls across the center console into my arms. “I'm sorry.”
“I know.”
“I'm so sorry.”
“I know.”
His fingers fist in the front of my shirt. “I'm just...” He shakes his head helplessly. “So tired.”
I wrap both arms around him. His forehead presses against my shoulder.
“It's okay.”
“No, it isn't.”
“It will be.”
“I don't think so.”
I smooth a hand through his hair. “You don't have to believe that tonight.”
His breathing catches. “He said William was dead…” Another shaky breath. “…and that some pathetic excuse for a hockey player was still alive. That's what sent me over the edge.”
The words hang between us. My jaw clenches so hard it hurts. I don't interrupt.
Kai keeps talking.
“I know he hates me. I know why and he should. But…” His voice grows impossibly small. “I was finally starting to feel like myself again.”
He looks up at me with red, exhausted eyes. “You make me want to get better.”
The confession steals the air from my lungs. I hold him tighter.
“Listen to me.”
He doesn't move.
“What Noah said came from his grief. It doesn't make it true.”
Silence settles over the truck.
Not empty.
Just quiet.
I continue rubbing slow circles across his back. His breathing gradually evens out. The tension leaves his shoulders one careful inch at a time.
Minutes pass.
Maybe twenty.
Maybe thirty.
Eventually his grip on my shirt loosens. His head grows heavier against my shoulder.
“Kai?”
No answer.
I smile despite everything.
He fell asleep. Still holding onto me. I shift carefully, easing him back into the passenger seat without waking him. His head tips toward the window.
I tuck my hoodie beneath his cheek as a pillow.
Then I pull back onto the road.
By the time we reach my apartment, it's well past midnight. The city has gone quiet.
I walk around to the passenger side and open the door. “Kai.”
Nothing. His eyelashes don't even flutter. He's completely spent.
I undo his seat belt and slide one arm beneath his knees. The other settles behind his back. He instinctively curls closer the moment I lift him. His face buries against my neck. A sleepy sigh escapes him.
My heart breaks all over again.
The elevator ride passes in silence. I unlock my condo one-handed. The familiar smell of cedar and coffee greets us.
I carry him straight to my bedroom.
Carefully. Slowly.
Like he's made of glass.
I ease him onto the mattress. He doesn't wake. I pull off his shoes. Then his hoodie. Then cover him with my comforter.
For the first time all day, his face looks peaceful. I kneel beside the bed. My forearms rest on the mattress. For a long time, I simply watch him breathe. The rise and fall of his chest becomes the only movement in the room.
I brush a strand of blond hair away from his forehead.
“So stubborn,” I whisper. “So unbelievably stubborn.”
My throat tightens. “You don't have to fight all of this by yourself anymore. I'm here.”
He doesn't stir. He's too deeply asleep to hear me. Maybe that's why the next words come so easily.
I lean forward and press a gentle kiss against his temple.
“I'll stay.” The promise feels frighteningly natural. “I'll help you carry this.”
My thumb brushes lightly across his cheek.
“I love you, Kai.”
The room stays quiet. He sleeps through the confession. Maybe that's for the best.
For tonight, it's enough that he's here.
Someone pounds on my front door hard enough to pull me out of sleep. For one disoriented second, I don't know where I am.
Then I remember.
The couch.
Kai asleep in my bed.
The game.
Everything that happened afterward.
Another series of knocks rattles the door. I rub a hand over my face and check the clock. Six thirty-eight.
“Jesus.” The knocking comes again.
I glance toward my bedroom before crossing the apartment barefoot. Whoever is outside isn't getting anywhere near Kai until I know why they're here.
I unlock the deadbolt and crack the door. My body immediately tenses.
Noah Grove.
His nose is wrapped in a white bandage, purple bruising already blooming beneath both eyes. He looks like he slept even less than I did.
“What do you want?”
Noah shifts awkwardly. “Is Hayes here?”
Every protective instinct in my body wakes up at once. Without thinking, I step into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me. The click of the lock echoes between us.
My finger lands squarely against the center of his chest. “What the hell do you think you're doing here?”
Noah doesn't move. “I just—”
“No.” I jab his chest again. “You don't get to show up at my apartment after yesterday. You don't get to say another goddamn word to him.”
He finally looks me in the eye. “I came to apologize.”
I blink. “What?”
He exhales shakily. “I need to apologize.”
The hallway falls silent.
Noah looks exhausted.
His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are bloodshot in a way that has nothing to do with hockey.
“Please.” His voice cracks slightly. “I just… let me talk to him.”
I study him for a long moment. Every instinct tells me to tell him to get lost. Every instinct also tells me Kai deserves the chance to hear whatever Noah came here to say.
“If I think you're upsetting him,” I say quietly, “you're gone.”
He nods immediately. “Fair.”
“You raise your voice once—”
“I won't.”
I open the door. “Wait here.”
Noah steps inside without another word.
“Sit.”
He does. Only then do I head toward my bedroom.
Kai is already awake. He's standing just outside the bathroom rubbing sleep from his eyes, wearing one of my old T-shirts that is too big on him. His hair is sticking up in every direction. He looks impossibly soft.
Then he notices my expression. “What?”
I cross the room and automatically settle my hands on his hips.
Grounding him.
Grounding myself.
“Someone's here.”
His eyebrows pull together. “Who?”
“Noah.”
Every ounce of color drains from his face.
His breathing immediately changes. I squeeze his hips gently. “Look at me.”
He does. “He wants to apologize.”
Kai stares at me like I've started speaking another language. “What?”
“He asked to see you.”
“I can't.”
“You don't have to.”
“I—”
“Kai.” I wait until his eyes settle on mine again. “I'm not leaving your side.”
His breathing remains uneven.
“I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”
Something inside him softens.
Not much.
Just enough.
“Okay.”
I brush my thumb once across his side. “We do this together.”
He nods.
After making Kai throw on a pair of sweats, I led him out. Noah stands the second we enter the living room.
His eyes immediately find Kai.