"I can do that."
We cook together, moving around each other carefully. Pasta and marinara, nothing fancy. He chops vegetables while I boil water. We don't talk about the heavy stuff anymore. We keep it light and easy. His practice. My conversation with Sable. What movie we should watch later.
It's ordinary and domestic and exactly what we need.
After dinner, we do dishes side by side. He washes, I dry. The domesticity is soothing and familiar. I never had this with Enzo.
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" I ask as I'm putting away the last plate.
His eyes widen slightly. "You want to?"
"Not for sex. Just… to be close. I've been cold sleeping alone the last two nights."
Si blurts out, "Yeah. Of course. Whatever you need."
I have to smile at that. At the core of his being, Si just wants to make me happy. I absolutely believe that. An echo of the past overwhelms me, reminds me that though we’vegrown up, we’re just two eighteen years olds, making eyes at each other and blushing.
I need to hold onto this feeling.
We lie in his bed in the dark. He's on his back, I'm curled against his side. His heartbeat is steady under my ear.
"I meant what I said," he murmurs. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."
"I know." I press a kiss to his chest. "That's why I think we're going to make it."
"You really think so?"
"I really think so." I am sure, more sure than I've been about anything in a long time. Silas loves me enough to try. And I’m trying to love myself enough to demand honesty.
We're both willing to do the hard work.
"I love you," he whispers into the darkness.
"I love you too. Even when I'm mad at you."
"Especially when you're mad at me?" Although it’s dark, I can hear his smile.
I grin against his chest. "Don't push it."
He laughs softly and tightens his arms around me.
We fall asleep tangled together, our first night rebuilding a fragile trust that’s sturdier than we thought.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Silas
My phone buzzes while I'm icing my shoulder on the couch. Scout's at work, the condo is quiet, and I'm supposed to be resting before tonight's game. Instead I've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, thinking about therapy and Dr. Sable and how badly I fucked up that last session.
The text is from a number I don't recognize.
Unknown
Hi Silas, this is Sable Nash. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
My stomach drops. Scout's sister. The therapist I bolted from like a complete psycho three weeks ago.
Me
