chapter thirteen

Chapter Thirteen :Cole pov

I didn't sleep after Maya let me in.

Not that night. Not the next night. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word she said.

You're still my brother. I still love you. Even when I'm angry.

Those words kept me alive.

The guest house was dark. Quiet. Too quiet. I could hear the wind outside. A car driving past somewhere in the distance. My own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like it was reminding me I was still alive. Still here. Still breathing.

I thought about Maya's face when she opened the door. The way she looked at me. Not with hatred. Not with anger. Just... sadness. Deep, heavy sadness.

That was worse.

If she had yelled, I could have yelled back. If she had cried, I could have held her. But she just looked at me. Like I was a stranger. Like she didn't know who I was anymore.

I couldn't blame her.

I didn't know who I was either.

Jay called me the next morning.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"She let me in."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know." I sat up in bed. Rubbed my face. My eyes were sore. I hadn't slept. "She didn't forgive me. But she didn't slam the door either."

"That's progress."

"Yeah."

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I told her I wasn't going to stop loving you."

Jay was quiet for a moment. I could hear him breathing. Could hear the background noise of wherever he was. Cars. Wind. Someone talking on the phone.

"That was brave," he said.

"Or stupid."

"Both."

I almost smiled. Almost.

"She said I could come back. Not tomorrow. But soon."

"Then we wait."

"I'm tired of waiting."

"I know. But it's all we can do."

I looked out the window. The sun was rising. Gold and pink through the trees. Beautiful. The kind of morning that should have felt hopeful.

Instead, it just felt empty.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too."

"See you at the rink?"

"Yeah. See you at the rink."

---

I got to the public rink an hour before Jay.

The ice was empty. The stands were empty. The lights were dim. Just a few overhead bulbs, casting long shadows across the seats.

I sat in the same row where we'd sat before. The same seats. The same spot. Third row from the top. Left side. Close to the aisle.

I thought about everything. Maya. Jay. My father. The mess I'd made.

My phone buzzed. Liam.

Practice at 2. Don't be late.

I won't, I replied.

You said that yesterday. Then you showed up looking like death.

I'll be there.

You better.

I put my phone away. Stared at the ice.

The Zamboni had left tracks. Perfect lines. Smooth. Clean. Nothing like my life.

I thought about my mother. She used to bring me here when I was a kid. Before the private rink. Before the Ashford name meant anything. She'd hold my hand and walk me to the ice and tell me to have fun.

Just have fun, Cole. That's all that matters.

When did I stop having fun?

When did hockey become a job? When did my father's approval become the only thing that mattered? When did I start caring more about what people thought than about how I felt?

I didn't know.

But I wanted to find out.

Jay walked in at 9:15.

He was wearing the same gray hoodie. The same worn sneakers. His hair was messy. His eyes were tired.

But he was smiling.

"You look happy," I said.

"I am. Maya texted me this morning."

My heart stopped. "What did she say?"

"She said she's not ready to see me. But she's not angry anymore. Just sad."

"That's huge."

"I know."

Jay climbed up the steps. Sat next to me. Not close. Not far. Just there.

"What did you say back?" I asked.

"I said I was sorry. She said she knows. Then she said she'd text me when she's ready to talk more."

"That's more than I got."

"She's your sister. She expects more from you. That's why she's harder on you."

I hadn't thought of it that way.

"Maybe," I said.

"Definitely."

We sat in silence for a minute. The cooling system hummed. The ice glowed under the lights. A single tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away.

"Can I ask you something?" Jay said.

"Anything."

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of losing her. Of losing me. Of all of it."

I thought about it. Really thought about it. The fear was always there. In the back of my mind. In the pit of my stomach. In the tightness of my chest.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm scared."

"Me too."

"But I'm not going to run."

"Neither am I."

Jay reached over. Took my hand. His fingers were cold. I held on.

"We're going to be okay," he said.

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep believing it."

I looked at him. His brown eyes. His tired face. His crooked smile.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too."

We didn't kiss. Didn't need to. Just sat there. Holding hands. Watching the ice.

I made it to practice at 2pm.

Liam was already on the ice. Skating laps. Running drills. Sweat dripping down his face. He looked up when I walked in.

"You're late," he said.

"I'm on time."

"You're never on time. You're always early."

I laced up my skates. Tight. Then tighter. Grabbed my stick. Hit the ice.

The cold hit my face. The familiar sting. I'd been on the ice a thousand times. Ten thousand. But today felt different.

Coach Hartley blew his whistle. "Ashford. You're with Thompson on the blue line. Let's go."

I skated to my position. The puck dropped. The game began.

I played hard. Played fast. Played angry.

Because when I was on the ice, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about Maya. I wasn't thinking about Jay. I wasn't thinking about the mess I'd made.

I was just moving. Just hitting. Just breathing.

After practice, Liam pulled me aside.

"You were different today," he said.

"Different how?"

"Better. Like you actually wanted to be here."

"I always want to be here."

"No. You always show up. That's not the same thing."

I didn't have an answer.

Liam leaned against the boards. The metal was cold. Condensation dripped down the glass.

"You talked to your sister?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"How'd it go?"

"She didn't forgive me. But she didn't kick me out either."

"That's something."

"That's what everyone keeps saying."

"Because it's true." Liam crossed his arms. "You can't fix everything overnight. You just have to keep showing up."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"Then keep trying."

I nodded.

Liam slapped my shoulder. "Now go home. Shower. You smell like a locker room."

I almost smiled. Almost.

That night, I wrote another letter.

Not to Maya. To my father.

I didn't send it. I just wrote it. To get the words out.

Dad,

I know you don't approve of me. You never have. Not really. You tolerated me. You pushed me. But you never saw me.

I'm not writing this to blame you. I'm writing this to tell you that I'm done pretending.

I'm in love with someone. His name is Jay. He's kind and funny and he works two jobs and he doesn't care about our money. He cares about me.

I know that's not what you wanted. I know you wanted me to marry a rich girl and take over the company and live the life you planned for me.

But I can't.

I'm sorry. Not because I'm wrong. Because I know this will hurt you.

But I can't keep living for you.

Cole

I folded the letter. Put it in my drawer. Next to the one I'd written to myself.

Maybe one day I'd send it. Maybe not.

But I'd written it. That was enough.

The next morning, I woke up to a text from Maya.

I'm not ready to see you. But I want you to know I'm thinking about you.

I read the message ten times. Eleven. Twelve.

Thank you, I replied. That means everything.

Don't make me regret it.

I won't.

I'm serious, Cole. Don't make me regret giving you another chance.

I won't. I promise.

Long pause. Then: I love you. Even when I'm angry.

I love you too.

I put my phone down. Stared at the ceiling.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something that wasn't guilt.

Hope.

I called Jay.

"She texted me again," I said.

"What did she say?"

"She said she's thinking about me. That she loves me. Even when she's angry."

Jay let out a breath. "That's huge."

"I know."

"We're getting there, Cole."

"Slowly."

"Slowly is better than not at all."

I nodded. Even though he couldn't see me.

"Can I see you today?" I asked.

"I'm working until 6."

"I'll come to the coffee shop."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Jay was quiet for a moment. "Okay. But just coffee. No drama."

"No drama."

"I'll hold you to that."

I smiled. First real smile in days.

I showed up at the coffee shop at 4pm.

The place was busy. Students studying. Moms with kids. Old men reading newspapers. The smell of coffee and baked goods. The sound of the espresso machine hissing.

Sarah was at the counter. She saw me. Didn't smile. Didn't frown. Just nodded.

"Black coffee?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She poured it. Handed it to me. "He's in the back. Break in ten minutes."

"I'll wait."

"Suit yourself."

I sat in the corner. The same corner as before. Drank my coffee. Watched the door.

Jay came out at 4:15.

He was wiping his hands on a towel. He saw me. Stopped.

"You came," he said.

"I said I would."

"I know. I just... I didn't believe it."

I stood up. Walked to him. Stopped a foot away.

"I'm here," I said.

"Yeah."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Jay looked at me. His eyes were wet.

"I know," he said.

We didn't hug. Didn't kiss. Just stood there. Looking at each other.

Sarah cleared her throat. "Break's almost over, Jay."

"I know."

"Then stop staring at him and drink your water."

Jay almost laughed. "Yes, boss."

He walked to the back. I sat back down.

Sarah came over. Leaned on the table.

"You love him?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"He loves you?"

"Yeah."

"Then don't mess it up."

"I'm trying not to."

"Try harder."

She walked away.

I drank my coffee. Waited for Jay's break to end

He came back out at 4:30.

"My shift ends at 6," he said. "You want to wait?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He went back to work. I sat in the corner. Watched him make lattes and cappuccinos. Watched him smile at customers. Watched him move like he was born to be behind that counter.

At 6pm, he clocked out. Grabbed his jacket.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. I just want to be with you."

We walked to the park. The same park where Maya used to play as a kid. The same park where I'd pushed her on the swings.

The sun was setting. The sky was orange and pink. Beautiful.

Jay sat on a bench. I sat next to him.

"I used to come here with my mom," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Before she died. She'd push me on the swings. Buy me ice cream. Tell me I could be anything I wanted to be."

"What did you want to be?"

"Happy."

Jay looked at me. "Are you?"

"Happy?"

"Yeah."

I thought about it. Really thought about it.

"Not yet," I said. "But I'm getting there."

Jay put his hand on mine.

"We both are," he said.

We sat there until the sun went down.

That night, I didn't write a letter.

I didn't text anyone. I didn't call anyone.

I just sat in the dark. And thought.

About Maya. About Jay. About my father. About the mess I'd made.

But also about the future. About the possibility of fixing things. About the chance to be happy.

I didn't have answers. Not yet.

But for the first time in a long time, I believed I might find them.