Chapter 5
Elliot
Silas’s arms tightened around me, as if he could sense that I was coming awake.
I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet, but he seemed to sense the difference in my breathing.
I rolled over so that I was facing him and rested my cheek against his chest and let him envelope me in a deep hug.
Whenever we were home together, the two of us acted like we were starved for human touch.
In reality, after a long road trip, I was starved for Silas’s touch.
“Are we staying like this all day?” I asked.
He laughed, and it rumbled against my ear. His skin was warm, and I never felt more secure than when I was in his arms. The rest of the world melted away. I could almost forget about hockey. Almost. “That would be nice, but I was thinking I’d make you breakfast.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. There’s no food here. Last time I was home, there was a bottle of mustard in the fridge and that was it.”
Silas’s body stretched, and he yawned. I missed his warmth immediately, but once he was finished, he came back and wrapped his arms around me again. He lay on his back and let me drape myself over his chest. I threw my leg over his just to keep him from getting up.
“I talked to your mom last week. She came in a couple of days ago to spruce the place up and dropped off a few groceries. We have got frozen pizza, some hamburger, chicken, and all that salad stuff you like.”
“Hey, you love my orzo salad, too.”
“I like making it for you,” he said, “which I can do if you want to let me up.”
Hard pass. I didn’t move. I adjusted my hip slightly, letting my morning wood rub against him. Maybe that could convince him to stay. “I think I need coffee.”
Silas wrinkled his nose. He was one of the few people on the planet who somehow managed to function on drinking water alone. No coffee, no soda. The man barely even touched alcohol.
Me, on the other hand, I needed coffee to get my day started, and I liked to end my day with tea.
“Do you have any plans today?” I asked. That felt like something I should know. I didn’t have his schedule memorized. We shared digital calendars since we traveled so much. I could barely keep track of what city I was in, let alone him.
“I have two virtual meetings later, but that’s it. My day belongs to you.”
“That sounds nice.” Not the virtual meeting thing. That sucked. I needed to hit the gym later, I could get that done while he worked. That would make the time pass quicker until I could be in his arms again. Or better yet, have him buried in me.
After a few minutes of cuddling, I forced myself out of the bed.
I couldn’t get used to being in his arms, even though after five years, it seemed the only time I slept well was when he was next to me, or on the days when I was on the road and I fell asleep while talking to him.
That didn’t happen much anymore, now that the team was forcing me to room with Nix all the time.
Apparently forcing the omegas to room together was a way in which they could save money. The alphas didn’t have to.
When I went into the kitchen, Silas was there.
He slid a coffee mug over to me. He already had the stove going with what smelled like eggs.
There was another saucepan on the stove, probably preparing the pasta for the salad I liked.
My man was a multi-tasker. Meanwhile, I couldn’t boil pasta without forgetting what I was doing halfway through and letting the water boil down to nothing.
Silas looked as comfortable in the kitchen as he did on the ice.
I couldn’t look at him for too long. My heart hurt with it. He was too good for me. He was always too good for me. And fuck, this couldn’t go any further than what we were, right? No matter how much I wanted to. What were we going to do, give up our careers?
Instead, I looked around the place. My mom hadn’t mentioned that she was coming over. Then again, she tended to talk to Silas more than me, not because we didn’t have a good relationship. He was just more of a talker than I was. During the season, I focused on my game.
“The place looks nice.” I narrowed my eyes. There was something different.
“I bought new throw pillows and hung a picture when I was home last,” Silas said as if he could read my thoughts.
“Ah, that’s what it is.”
The picture on the wall was a mix of blues and white.
Varying shades that all swam together. The pillows were a simple blue with some sort of diamond pattern on them.
Argyle? No, that wasn’t right. Plaid? I didn’t know what it was called.
Silas probably did, but I wasn’t going to show my ignorance by asking.
Same with the artwork. It was signed by someone. It was a real painting, not a print. Did he know the artist?
“So, is that why you texted me asking about colors the other day?”
“That was three months ago, Elliot.”
“Oh. Has it been that long since I was home?”
“No, it hasn’t. I didn’t get these until a few weeks ago. I promise this is the first time you’ve seen them in the light of day.”
“Good.” Not that it really mattered if I didn’t notice things about our apartment.
Ultimately, I didn’t care what it looked like.
I liked that Silas cared about it. This had been his apartment before it was ours.
Technically we could afford something bigger, nicer.
Hell, we could buy a whole house if we wanted.
That was too permanent, though. Five years in and we didn’t even share a bank account.
“I like the art,” I said.
Silas flashed me a smile. “Me too. I went to a gallery showing with Alan, he’s one of the scorekeepers. It was his omega roommate from college or something? Anyway, the painting reminded me of getting to the arena in the early morning, skating on fresh ice.”
I looked back at the painting. “Yeah. When no one else is around.”
“Exactly. Remember when we used to set up drills at five in the morning cause that was the only time you could get ice time?”
I laughed. “Those were the days.” Back then it wasn’t so complicated.
He was just starting his career in the lower league, meanwhile I hadn’t even been drafted yet.
But I was hopeful. Always hopeful. I never would have made it without Silas being there to encourage me and run drills until I couldn’t even hold a stick anymore.
Then he was there to ice my shoulder, my knee, whatever aches I had from a day on the ice.
He brought me over another cup of coffee and a plate with a perfect omelet, complete with a cilantro leaf as garnish.
“You starting a second career as a chef?” I asked.
He snorted. “I’m not that good.”
The flavor that exploded in my mouth when I took a bite begged to differ.