31

CHAPTER 3: SILAS'S CONFESSION

The moment Elias vanished around the corner, my legs gave way and I leaned hard against the cold brick wall, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. My lips still burned from his kiss, my mind reeling — Elias, the captain, the quiet, disciplined one who never broke a rule, had just kissed me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. I didn’t know how long I stood there, fingers pressed to my mouth, before a low, familiar voice cut through my daze.

“He’s been holding back for months, you know.”

I jumped, spinning around. Silas stood ten feet away, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder, his dark hair damp with sweat from practice. His expression wasn’t angry — it was raw, hurt, and something else entirely: longing. My heart sank. He’d seen everything.

“Silas…” I started, but he held up a hand, stepping closer until only a small space remained between us. The hallway was empty, the arena quieting down as the team cleared out, but every second felt stretched thin, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the cold ice nearby.

“I’ve watched you since your first day,” he said, his voice rough, like he was forcing the words out after swallowing them for months. “The way you laugh when we mess up drills, the way you bite your lip when you’re sorting through equipment, the way you look up — first at him, then at me — like you’re scared to let either of us catch you staring. I’ve felt it. Every time our hands brush when you pass me a water bottle, every time you stand just a little too close when we’re going over plays. I told myself it was wrong. That you were staff, that Elias is my brother, that we’d ruin everything if we touched you. But seeing him kiss you just now… it didn’t make me angry. It made me realize I wasn’t the only one losing my mind over you.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over my wrist, sending a jolt up my arm that made my knees weak. “Tell me to walk away, and I will. I’ll never say another word about it. But if you feel even a fraction of what I do… don’t make me leave. Don’t make me pretend I don’t see you, don’t make me act like you don’t matter more than any game, any win, any rule.”

Tears pricked my eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming weight of being wanted — truly, deeply wanted — by both of them. “I don’t want you to leave,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I want you. Both of you. I just… I don’t know how this could ever work.”

“Neither do I,” Silas said, stepping closer until his forehead rested gently against mine, his scent of pine, cold air, and something uniquely him wrapping around me like a blanket. “But I’m willing to try. If you are. If he is.”