Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 71 - Chapitre 80

Anthony’s POVThe fire cracked softly, a steady rhythm against the quiet of the night. Sparks rose into the cold air, drifting upward until they disappeared into the black sky. The three of us sat around it, me, Samantha, and Cole, our shadows thrown wide and uneven across the dirt. My fingers were stiff from the chill, the paper in my hands trembling just enough to make the handwriting blur.I cleared my throat, forcing my voice steady. “Number two,” I began, eyes on the page, “I’m grateful for… the chance to fight. To keep doing something that matters.”The words came out rougher than I’d planned. My voice caught halfway through, and for a second, I wondered if she’d notice the crack, the small fracture between composure and everything I didn’t want to say out loud.Of course, Samantha noticed everything.Her lips twitched, that telltale spark of mischief flashing across her face before she gave a slow, sarcastic clap that broke the stillness of the night. “How noble of you,” she

Anthony’s POV “Fine,” she said after a pause. “My third… I’m grateful for fire. Not just this one, but… warmth. The light. Reminds me I’m not in complete darkness.”The way she said it, quiet, unguarded, hit me harder than I expected. I don’t think she meant for it to sound so raw, but her voice cracked in a way that made my chest tighten. Samantha never let people see that side of her. She was all sharp edges and quick comebacks, a storm wrapped in armor. But for a moment, the firelight exposed something else, something fragile and tired beneath it all.I wanted to tell her I understood. That I knew what it was like to crave warmth in a world that felt cold most of the time. But I didn’t. I just nodded, pretending to focus on my paper while my heart thudded too loud in my chest.We kept going, taking turns like we were trying to outdo each other with honesty. Each round peeled back another layer. My fourth was stupid, warm boots. I said it just to fill the silence, but she didn’t l

Anthony's POVSamantha's glare could’ve frozen the embers back at the fire pit. “Don’t start with me, Anthony.” she snapped.“I’m not starting anything. I’m just, ” I broke off, dragging a hand through my hair. The air was colder now, the kind that bit through fabric and silence alike. “We were talking. Actually talking. And then you act like it didn’t happen.”She let out a humorless laugh, bitter and sharp. “Because it shouldn’t have happened. That’s why. This whole… gratitude list thing?” She gestured vaguely at the crumpled paper still in my hand. “Stupid. Pretending like saying a few nice words will erase everything? Even stupider.”I stopped walking. “That’s not what I was doing.” I said.She didn’t even glance back. “Sure felt like it.” she retorted.At this point, I didn’t even know what we were erasing… or rather, what she wanted to erase. Maybe the laughter. Maybe the quiet. Maybe every version of us that existed before everything fell apart. I wasn’t even sure anymore whi

Anthony’s POV Samantha blinked at him, her expression halfway between disbelief and annoyance. “You want us to stand here and… breathe?” she asked.Cole didn’t even look up from his clipboard. “Exactly. You’d be surprised how bad most people are at it.”She exhaled sharply, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, this is ridiculous. Her hands went to her hips, her posture stiff and defensive.I couldn’t help a small smirk. “What’s wrong? Afraid to share the same air as me?”She cut me a sharp look. “I’m afraid you’ll mistake it for an invitation to talk.”Cole’s voice sliced through before I could respond. “Less snark, more breathing.”I raised both hands in mock surrender, then turned back toward her. “You heard the man. Deep breaths. Together.”Her eyes rolled, but she shifted slightly closer anyway, boots scraping softly against the ice. I could see her jaw tighten as she squared her shoulders.I inhaled slowly, trying not to think too much about the f

Anthony's POV Lunch was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that felt like it had weight to it, thick and awkward, like no one wanted to be the first to break it. The cafeteria smelled faintly of tomato sauce and coffee, and the clinking of forks against plates filled the gaps between Cole’s voice. He talked the most, naturally, his words rolling like he was giving a lecture none of us had asked for.“I’ve seen skaters implode because they couldn’t trust each other,” Cole said, stabbing his fork into a plate of pasta like it had personally offended him. “You two have fire. That’s good. Fire wins medals. But fire uncontrolled? Burns everything down.”Samantha twirled her fork slowly, the metal clinking against her plate. Her eyes stayed fixed on her food, like if she stared long enough, she could tune him out. “We get it,” she muttered. “Trust. Partnership. Communication. You’ve been drilling it into us for days.”Cole didn’t flinch. “And you’ll hear it a thousand more times before