Eli pats my shoulder once. “Anytime, Shawsy.”
The quiet stretches again until Peter claps his hands once. “Okay, pep talk’s over. Now somebody tell him to shower. The smell of heartbreak’s getting aggressive.”
Luke perks up instantly. “I volunteer as tribute. No one scrubs a back like I do.”
“Absolutely not,” Daniel says, deadpan.
Luke winks. “Offer’s on the table, Captain. Don’t say I never cared.”
Peter throws a pillow at him; it misses by a mile. Laughter breaks the tension, filling the small dorm with warmth.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself sink into it—the noise, the normal, the reminder that I’m still part of something that doesn’t care about labels or headlines. That they aren’t like my dad.
When the laughter fades, I push myself up from the bed. My body protests like I’ve been carrying a hundred pounds of regret on my shoulders—and maybe I have.
“I’m gonna—uh…” I motion vaguely toward the bathroom. “Take that shower before Luke makes good on his threat.”
“Hey,” Luke calls after me, grinning, “offer’s always open, Captain!”
“Don’t even think about it,” Daniel mutters. “Logan would skin you alive.”
Their voices blur behind me as I step into the narrow dorm bathroom. The mirror catches my reflection, andfor a second, I barely recognize the guy staring back—dark circles, overgrown scruff, dull eyes. I look like someone who’s been trying not to exist.
I twist the faucet. The pipes groan, then release a rush of water that steams up the small space. When I step under it, the heat hits like something alive, scalding at first, then grounding. The water beats against my skin, washing away the stale sweat, the smell of takeout, the ghost of every night I spent avoiding myself.
It doesn’t fix everything—doesn’t make my dad’s voice disappear or erase the ache that still lives in my chest—but it’s a start.
By the time I towel off and pull on clean clothes, my hands have stopped shaking. The fog in my head has thinned enough that I can breathe without it hurting.
When I step back into the room, Peter’s sprawled on his bed, Luke and Daniel are arguing about something stupid, and Eli is quietly scrolling his phone. It looks so normal that my chest aches a little.
Peter glances up. “Holy shit, he’s human again.”
Luke lifts a chip in mock salute. “You clean up nice, Captain. Knew you had it in you.”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth pulls upward anyway. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” Luke fires back.
The laughter that follows is easy, unforced. It fills the space between us and pushes out the quiet that’s been living in my chest since everything fell apart. I might have it in me to face the team…and maybe even Logan.
By the time the others leave a few hours later, the room’s quiet again. Luke’s laughter still echoes faintly down the hall, Daniel’s sarcasm trailing after it. Eli gave me one lastnod before he left, the kind that saidyou’re gonna be okaywithout needing to put it into words.
Peter’s still here, stretched out on his bed with his headphones around his neck, pretending to scroll through something on his phone. The silence isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable, like we’ve been through too many early practices and late-night study sessions to need to fill it.
I drop onto my own bed. My head feels clearer. My chest doesn’t.
Peter glances up. “You look human now.”
“Low bar,” I say, my voice rough.
He snorts. “Yeah, well, you were circling the drain there for a bit.”
I laugh once, weakly, then stare down at my hands. “You have no idea.”
He sits up a little, expression softening. “Hey… you don’t have to talk about it, but if you want to—I’m here.”
I swallow hard. “When I went home…after… my dad told me it’s just a phase.”
