chapter eight

Chapter Eight : Cole pov

Three days.

Three days since Maya walked out. Three days since I watched her face crumble. Three days since I became the worst thing that ever happened to my sister.

I didn't leave the guest house.

Not for food. Not for air. Not for anything.

I just sat on the couch. The same couch where Jay and I had kissed. The same couch where I'd felt happy for the first time in years. Now it just felt like a crime scene.

My phone buzzed. Jay.

You okay?

I stared at the screen. What was I supposed to say? No, I wasn't okay. I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten. I'd been sitting in the dark for seventy-two hours like some kind of ghost.

No, I typed. Then deleted it.

Yeah, I typed. Then deleted that too.

I put the phone down.

It buzzed again.

Cole. Please answer.

I picked it up.

I can't, I wrote.

Can't what?

Can't do this right now.

Do what? Talk to me?

Yes.

You're shutting me out.

I'm not shutting you out. I'm trying not to fall apart.

Long pause. Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Then fall apart. I'll catch you.

I stared at those words for a long time. I wanted to believe them. I wanted to drive to his apartment and collapse in his arms and let him hold me until the guilt went away.

But the guilt wasn't going away. It was just getting heavier.

I can't, I wrote again.

Why not?

Because every time I look at you, I see her face.

No response.

I put the phone down. Picked it up. Put it down again.

An hour later, he texted: I understand.

I didn't believe him.

The next day, Liam showed up at my door.

I hadn't told him where I lived. He must have gotten the address from Coach. Or maybe he just followed me home one day. I wouldn't have noticed. I hadn't noticed anything in weeks.

He knocked. I didn't answer.

He knocked again. "Cole. I know you're in there. Open the door."

"Go away."

"Not happening."

I heard him try the handle. It was unlocked. He walked in.

The guest house was a mess. Dishes in the sink. Clothes on the floor. Empty water bottles everywhere. I hadn't cleaned anything since Maya left. I hadn't done anything.

Liam stood in the middle of the room, looking around. His face was hard to read. He wasn't judging. He was just... observing.

"You look like shit," he said.

"Thanks."

"I'm serious. When's the last time you ate?"

"I don't remember."

He walked to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Closed it. Opened the cabinets. Closed them.

"You have nothing," he said.

"I know."

"Get dressed. We're going out."

"I don't want to go out."

"I don't care what you want." He grabbed my arm. Pulled me off the couch. "You're my captain. You're my friend. And I'm not going to watch you rot in here."

I didn't have the energy to fight him.

He took me to a diner. The kind of place that never closes. Fluorescent lights. Sticky floors. Coffee that tasted like it had been sitting on the burner since 1995.

We sat in a booth by the window. Liam ordered for both of us. I didn't care what.

"Talk," he said.

"About what?"

"About whatever is making you look like a corpse."

I stared at the table. The laminate was peeling at the edges. Someone had carved initials into the corner. J + M. The letters blurred in front of me.

"I did something," I said.

"What kind of something?"

"The kind you can't take back."

Liam waited. He didn't push. He just sat there, drinking his coffee, giving me space to find the words.

"I hurt someone," I said. "Someone who trusted me."

"Who?"

"My sister."

Liam set his mug down. "What did you do?"

I looked up at him. His eyes were steady. He wasn't going to run. He wasn't going to judge. He was just there.

"I fell in love with her boyfriend."

The words hung in the air between us.

Liam didn't say anything for a long time. Then he leaned back in the booth. Let out a breath.

"Shit," he said.

"Yeah."

"Does he love you back?"

"Yes."

"Then it's not just you."

"That doesn't make it better."

"No." Liam shook his head. "It doesn't. But it means you're not the only one carrying this."

I didn't know what to say to that.

He signaled the waitress for more coffee. She came over, poured it, left.

"You're my friend," Liam said. "I'm not going to pretend I understand. I don't. But I'm not going to walk away either."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because I'm poison. Everyone I get close to gets hurt."

"That's not true."

"It is. My mom died. My sister hates me. Jay's going to leave eventually."

Liam leaned forward. "You don't know that."

"I know."

"You don't. You're scared. There's a difference."

The food came. Eggs. Toast. Bacon. I wasn't hungry. But I ate anyway. Because Liam was watching. Because he'd driven all the way to my place to make sure I was still alive.

"This isn't over," Liam said. "Whatever happened with your sister, it's not over. You're going to have to face her eventually."

"I know."

"And you're going to have to face him too."

"I know."

"Then stop hiding. Eat your breakfast. Take a shower. Go back to practice. One thing at a time."

I looked at him. My teammate. My friend. The only person who'd shown up.

"When did you get so wise?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I watch a lot of talk shows."

I almost laughed. Almost.

I went back to practice the next day.

The ice was cold. The lights were bright. My teammates were skating laps, running drills, doing all the things we always did. Like nothing had changed. Like the world hadn't ended.

Coach Hartley pulled me aside after warm-ups.

"You look better than last week," he said.

"I feel worse."

"Good. Use it." He pointed at the ice. "You've got anger in you. Put it into your game."

I nodded.

I skated harder than I ever had. Faster. Meaner. I checked guys into the boards. I scored three goals in the scrimmage. I didn't smile once.

After practice, Liam found me in the locker room.

"You're playing angry," he said.

"I'm playing."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant."

He sat down next to me. "Have you talked to him?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know."

"You can't avoid him forever."

"I know."

Liam stood up. Grabbed his bag. "Just don't shut him out because you're scared. You'll regret it."

He left.

I sat there for a long time. Staring at my skates. Staring at the floor. Staring at nothing.

Then I pulled out my phone.

Can we talk? I texted Jay.

His reply came in seconds. I've been waiting for you to ask.

We met at the rink. The public one, not the Ashford rink. Neutral ground. No memories. No ghosts.

Jay was already there when I arrived. Sitting in the stands, hands in his pockets, hood up. He looked small from a distance. Smaller than I remembered.

I climbed up the steps. Sat down next to him. Not close. Not far. Just... next to him.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

Neither of us spoke for a minute. The ice was empty. The lights were dim. The only sound was the hum of the cooling system.

"I've been thinking," I said.

"That's dangerous."

I almost smiled. "I've been thinking about what you said. About falling apart."

Jay turned to look at me. His eyes were red. He'd been crying too.

"I meant it," he said.

"I know. But I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm supposed to be strong. For Maya. For you. For everyone."

"That's not how it works." Jay shifted closer. "You don't have to be strong all the time. That's not what love is."

"Then what is it?"

"It's showing up. Even when it's hard. Even when you're scared. Even when you don't know what to say."

I looked at the ice. The Zamboni had left tracks. Straight lines. Perfect. Nothing like my life.

"I hurt her," I said.

"We hurt her."

"I started it."

Jay didn't argue. "Maybe. But I didn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you."

The words landed in my chest like a stone.

"I love you too," I said. "But love isn't enough."

"Then what is?"

"Honesty. Trust. Not hiding."

Jay nodded. "So no more hiding."

"No more hiding."

He reached for my hand. I let him take it. His fingers were cold. I wrapped mine around them.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"We give her time."

"And after that?"

"We tell her we're sorry. Not with words. With actions."

Jay squeezed my hand. "I can do that."

"Me too."

We sat there for a long time. Holding hands in the empty rink. Not saying anything. Just being.

It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't resolution. It was just... a start.

That night, I wrote Maya a letter.

Not a text. Not an email. A real letter. On paper. With a pen.

I wrote:

Maya,

I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But I want you to know that I'm sorry. Not because I got caught. Because I hurt you. You're my sister. You're the only family that matters. And I broke your heart.

I can't take it back. I wish I could. But I can't.

So instead, I'm going to try to be better. Not for me. For you. Because you deserve a brother who tells the truth. Even when it's hard.

I love you. I always have. I always will.

I'll wait as long as it takes.

Cole

I folded the letter. Put it in an envelope. Wrote her name on the front.

Then I drove to her apartment and slid it under her door.

I didn't knock. I didn't call. I just left it there.

And then I went home.

Three days later, she texted me.

I got your letter.

My heart stopped.

I'm not ready to talk. But I'm glad you wrote it.

Take your time, I replied.

I will.

That was it. Four words. But it was something.

I showed Jay the message.

"She replied," I said.

"What did she say?"

"Not much. But she replied."

Jay read the screen. His face softened. "That's good. That's progress."

"It's not forgiveness."

"No. But it's not silence either."

He was right.

A week passed. Then two.

I went to practice. I played games. I came home. I wrote. I stared at the ceiling. I thought about Maya. I thought about Jay. I thought about all the things I should have done differently.

Jay and I still saw each other. But not at the guest house. Not anywhere private. We met at the rink. At the coffee shop. In public. No hiding. But no secrets either.

Sarah started talking to me. Not much. Just small talk. How's practice? How's your dad? But it was something.

Liam invited me to his place for dinner. His girlfriend made pasta. It was terrible. I ate two plates. It was the best meal I'd had in weeks.

Life kept moving. Even when I wanted it to stop.

One night, Jay called me.

"Come outside," he said.

"What?"

"I'm outside your place. Come outside."

I walked to the door. Opened it.

He was standing there. In the dark. In the rain. No jacket. No umbrella. Just him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I needed to see you."

"You're soaked."

"I don't care."

I pulled him inside. Grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Wrapped it around his shoulders.

"You're an idiot," I said.

"Probably."

"You could have called."

"I did call. You didn't answer."

I looked at my phone. Three missed calls. I'd left it in the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be. I'm here now."

He was shivering. I pulled him closer. His clothes were cold and wet against my chest. But I didn't let go.

"Jay."

"Yeah."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of messing this up. Of hurting you. Of losing you."

Jay pulled back. Looked at me. His hair was plastered to his forehead. Water dripped down his face.

"You're not going to lose me," he said.

"You don't know that."

"I do." He put his hand on my chest. Right over my heart. "Because I'm not going anywhere. No matter what."

I kissed him.

Not hard. Not desperate. Just... soft. Just to feel him. Just to remember that something in my life wasn't broken.

He kissed me back. His lips were cold. His hands were cold. But his mouth was warm.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

We stood there in the hallway. Holding each other. Rain dripping onto the floor.

It wasn't a solution. It wasn't an ending.

But it was a start.