All Chapters of Breaking The Ice Between Us : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

CAPTAIN ~ I don’t remember how I got home that day. Not the streetlights blurring past, not the way my knuckles clenched the steering wheel until they turned white, not even shutting the door behind me. One minute I was standing in the parking lot, fists aching and blood pounding in my ears, and the next, I was sitting in my living room, staring at the floor like it might suddenly cough up all the answers I didn’t have. The silence pressed against my ears. Everything was a blur. Not just my surroundings—my thoughts too. My emotions felt like a jumbled playlist on shuffle, skipping from one track to the next without warning. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like myself. Days passed. Each one worse than the last. First, guilt. It crept in quietly, like a cold draft under the door. Guilt for not knowing. For not asking. For being involved in something so fucking catastrophic and not even realizing the damage it left behind. I kept picturing Andrew’s face when he

I didn’t even realize I was walking after him until it was too late. There he was—bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, head slightly lowered like he didn’t want to be seen. I’d just stepped out from the locker room, still a little sore from practice, still tasting the metallic bitterness of exhaustion on my tongue. But the second I saw him, all of that vanished. Andrew. God. I’d missed him. Every goddamn inch of him. The slouch in his walk, the way he gripped the strap of his bag when he was lost in thought, how his curls bounced slightly with each step. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I didn’t call out to him. Just followed. Like a shadow. Like a fucking stalker. He turned a corner down the side of the building, heading toward a more isolated hallway. I knew this stretch of campus—it was quiet during this time of day. No class changes. No traffic. Just… still. I turned the corner behind him, barely a breath behind. And then suddenly—WHAM. My back slammed against the con

I pulled into the front of my apartment, engine humming softly as it settled into silence. The rain had started on the drive back—just a few drops at first, lazy taps on the windshield like the sky hadn’t made up its mind yet. But by the time I turned the key and stepped out, it was full-on weeping. I stood there. Door open. One foot out. The other still in. Like if I didn't make a move, time would just pause for a bit and give me some fucking room to think. Eventually, I stepped out and shut the door behind me. The rain hit my shoulders immediately, soaking through my shirt like the universe was trying to make up for the past few weeks all at once. I didn’t move. Just stood there, staring at the apartment in front of me like it was the first time I’d really looked at it. Nothing fancy. Just an average, forgettable place with a squeaky hallway light, and an elevator that jammed especially when you were in a hurry. I'd never given it much thought before. It was just a place to cras

“God, you scared me,” she murmured, voice softer now. “Seeing you like that… soaked, wrecked. I thought…” She let the words trail off. She didn’t need to finish. “I wasn’t going to do anything stupid,” I replied, voice low. “Not that kind of stupid, anyway.” Her eyes snapped to mine—sharp, searching. “Are you sure?” “No,” I admitted, rubbing a hand down my face. “But I’m here. That has to count for something.” She gave a slow nod. “It does.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just heavy. Like grief that hadn’t settled yet. Eventually, without looking up from her phone, she asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight? Couch is free. Spare blankets are in the hall closet.” I shook my head. “I should go. Try to sleep in my own bed.” “Suit yourself,” she said, standing up to clear the tray. Her movements were quiet, almost mechanical—like she didn’t want to scare the stillness away. I stayed seated, watching the pattern of her shadow on the wall shift as she walked into the

The door clicked shut behind me with a finality that echoed too loudly in my ears. I didn’t look back. Just walked out of that office like my legs were on autopilot, moving before my brain could catch up. Each step felt strangely distant, like I was watching myself from outside my own body. Down the stairs, the sound of my footsteps echoed louder than usual, too sharp in the silence. I walked through the hallway, where the overhead lights cast long, jerky shadows that danced against the stained walls. The air smelled faintly of old coffee and copier toner, but beneath that lingered something else—something stale and institutional. I passed by faces I didn’t register, or maybe they didn’t register me. Either way, no one said a word. Then out the glass doors and into the open air that felt anything but freeing. The sky was gray and heavy, like it had soaked up all my unspoken thoughts and decided to wear them. The second I sat in my car, my hands hit the steering wheel. Not in a