Chapter 32
chapter thirty-two
Silver spent the last week trying, and failing, to forget how Spencer looked at her before walking out.
Not angry. Not amused. Just… done. They had ignored each other since it happened. No friendly banter, no bickering, no fun.
And that? That didn’t sit right.
Now, she was standing in Spencer’s doorway, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, feeling oddly out of place.
Spencer lived at the very edge of the district, where the city started to loosen its grip, just far enough from the chaos to breathe but still close enough that the hum of it lingered.
Her apartment reflected that same balance.
Light and airy, with big windows that flooded the space with the soft afternoon sun, it felt removed from everything, like its own little pocket of calm.
It smelled faintly of coffee and something citrusy—maybe Spencer’s shampoo, perhaps a candle.
The bookshelves were overflowing, some stacked neatly, others shoved in haphazardly, and the couch looked so comfortable it almost irritated Silver.
It was a space that felt lived in. Warm. The kind of place you wanted to be.
And then there was Spencer.
She was standing by the fridge, twisting open a water bottle, still damp from a shower, her dark green tank top clinging in a way that made Silver’s brain do something stupid.
Her collarbone peeked out from where she absentmindedly pulled at the neckline, and her hair curled slightly at the ends, still drying. She looked…
Silver clenched her jaw. Not going there.
Spencer arched a brow. “You gonna stand there looking weird, or are you gonna say something?”
Silver rolled her shoulders, forcing her usual confidence back into place. “I didn’t like how that conversation ended.”
Spencer leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Which part? The part where you refused to take responsibility or the part where I completely wrecked your ego?”
Silver scoffed, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets. “First of all, screw you.”
Spencer smirked. “Noted.”
Silver exhaled, trying to shake off whatever weird static was buzzing under her skin.
“Look, I don’t want things to be weird between us.
” Her voice came out rougher than intended.
She cleared her throat. “You and Chris are like family to me. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t take that seriously. ”
Something in Spencer’s expression flickered, but she didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she twisted the cap back onto her water, set it down, and turned to face Silver fully.
Silver spent years perfecting the art of not overthinking things. She knew how to keep things light and shrug off anything that got too deep—but standing in Spencer’s apartment, under her sharp green gaze, feeling exposed in a way she wasn’t used to?
That was different.
Spencer tilted her head slightly. “You ever think about just… growing up?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words came out sharper than intended, reflexive, and a little too fast.
Spencer gestured vaguely. “Being a real person. Dealing with your shit. Letting people in instead of keeping them at arm’s length?”
Silver scoffed, leaning against the counter opposite her. “Wow. You win one argument, and now you’re my therapist?”
Spencer smirked, taking a slow sip of water. “Just saying. Might do you some good.”
Silver felt a flicker of irritation, but it wasn’t just that. She shifted, crossing her arms. “Not everyone has their life mapped out at twenty-two, Spencer.”
Spencer shrugged. “Yeah, but I think you’ve had yourself figured out for a long time. You just don’t like the answer.”
Silver’s breath hitched just slightly—so small, she could almost pretend it didn’t happen.
Spencer let the words sit there before finally pushing off the counter. “Anyway,” she said, lighter now, “I accept your apology. But don’t pull that shit again.”
“Deal.”
Spencer grabbed the remote from the coffee table. “Now, are we watching this game or what?”
Silver blinked. “You’re not kicking me out?”
“No, dumbass. But I will make you watch hockey and hear me yell at the screen.”
Silver smirked. “Oh, so this is my real punishment. Sports.”
“Damn right.” Spencer flopped onto the couch and tossed a pillow at her. “Now shut up and sit down.”
Silver easily caught the pillow, tossing it onto the couch before sinking in beside Spencer.
The cushions were too comfortable, like the kind you’d accidentally fall asleep in, and everything in here felt too easy—the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the windows, the scent of coffee, and something citrusy clinging faintly to the air.
It was unsettling.
Spencer has always been a background presence in Silver’s life. Christine’s little sister. The annoying, scrawny kid who used to tag along, all elbows and knees and oversized hoodies. But this? This was something else entirely.
Spencer wasn’t scrawny anymore.
There was muscle beneath the soft facade: lean, solid strength wrapped up in an easy grin and a steady presence.
When she absentmindedly stretched across the couch to grab a blanket, the movement was effortless, the slow extension of her body fluid and unthinking.
It was the kind of thing Silver wouldn’t have noticed before, but it stood out now for some reason.
She didn’t like how that made her feel.
Spencer, oblivious to Silver’s minor existential crisis, flipped on the TV and stretched one leg onto the couch, her knee knocking lightly against Silver’s.
Silver forced herself to focus.
“So,” she drawled, resting her arms along the back of the couch, “on a scale from mild grumbling to public safety hazard, how much yelling should I expect?”
Spencer didn’t even look at her. “Depends on how stupid they play.”
* * *
The game barely started, and Spencer was already muttering under her breath, fingers twitching against her knee, fully dialed into the action on screen. Silver watched her out of the corner of her eye, smirking at the intensity.
Then, without warning, Spencer smacked her leg.
“Did you see that?” she barked, already on her feet, pointing at the screen like she was about to file a formal complaint.
“The net was wide open! And he whiffed it! Like—what, did he black out? Have an out-of-body experience? You have one job, you useless sack of shit! Jesus Christ, you may as well have walked the puck in on a damn silver platter and still managed to drop it down a fucking sewer grate!”
Silver blinked up at her. “Damn, Spence.”
Spencer huffed through her nose, crossing her arms. Silver tried very hard not to notice the way her biceps flexed when she did.
“They suck,” Spencer muttered.
Silver grinned, stretching out. “You’re kinda cute when you’re angry.”
Spencer turned her head slightly, leveling her with a look.
Silver shrugged. “What? I’m just saying if hockey doesn’t work out, you’d make an excellent security guard. Maybe a bouncer.”
Spencer flopped back onto the couch, shaking her head. “You would be the kind of person who enjoys pissing me off.”
Silver smirked, nudging Spencer’s knee with her own. “You make it fun.”
Spencer huffed but didn’t argue.
The game played on, its rhythm filling the space between them—the sharp scrape of skates on ice, the low murmur of the commentators. Silver let herself sink into it, letting the room's warmth settle around her.
And then the screen cut to black.
Silver frowned. “Uh?—”
A moment later, the image returned, but it wasn’t the game. It was the Governor’s office.
Breaking News.
Spencer sat up straighter.
Tate’s face filled the screen, standing at a podium, hands steady against the polished wood. Behind him, Selene Carlisle stood with quiet poise, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered, like she didn’t just help orchestrate whatever fresh hell was about to be announced.
Silver groaned, shifting against the couch cushions. “Oh, great. What does this douche want now?”
Then, without thinking, she muttered, “God, his wife is so fucking hot.”
Spencer turned to stare at her, eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”
Silver shrugged. “What? She is. Evil. But hot.”
Spencer rubbed her temple like she was getting a migraine.
Before Silver could make it worse, Tate’s voice rang through the room, smooth and practiced.
“Good evening. Tonight, I address the people of our great state not as a politician but as a man of faith, principle, and responsibility.”
The apartment felt quieter. The sounds of the city outside faded beneath the weight of his words.
“This state has strayed from its moral foundation for too long.”
Silver shifted, resting her chin on her palm. “God, he loves the sound of his voice.”
“We have watched as long-held values have been eroded, replaced by chaos, confusion, and the dismantling of the family unit.”
Silver sighed through her nose. “Just say you hate gay people and go, dude.”
Tate lifted his chin, voice steady.
“That ends tonight.”
Spencer sat up fully, her grip tight. “No.”
Then, the hammer.
“Effective immediately, the legal recognition of same-sex marriage in our state is revoked.”
The air changed.
Silver’s body tensed, but beside her, Spencer went utterly still.
No sharp inhale. No reaction. Just a kind of frozen silence that made Silver’s stomach twist.
Tate kept talking.
“Furthermore, any same-sex marriages currently recognized under the previous law will be dissolved by the end of the month.”
Silver exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face. “Do you think she actually fucks that creep?”
Spencer remained still.
Silver turned her head, about to make another joke to break the tension, anything, but stopped.
Spencer wasn’t just still.
She was locked.
Silver nudged her knee against Spencer’s, softer this time. “Breathe.”
“This is illegal,” Spencer said, quiet but fraying at the edges.
“Illegal?” Silver let out a slow breath, tilting her head toward the TV. “Look at him. He thinks he's the law.”
Spencer pushed forward off the couch, pacing the short length of the living room, dragging a hand through her hair.
“I—” She stopped short, pressing the heel of her palm against her heart.
Silver let her breathe. Let the room settle.
A static flicker ran across the screen before Tate’s voice rang out again, smooth and final.
“This is not about exclusion. This is about restoration.”
Silver pushed herself upright. “Spence.”
Spencer shook her head, jaw tight, not looking at her.
“The state of our values is strong.”
The broadcast droned on.
“And together, we will keep it that way.”
The screen cut to black, then seamlessly resumed the hockey game, like their entire world didn’t just shift beneath them.
Silence.
Spencer sat down with a thump, elbows on her knees, staring at the screen.
Silver didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she could say.
Before she could figure it out, Spencer grabbed the remote and shut the TV off.
The screen went dark.
?