I take a slow breath. “We talked. A lot. Like, actually talked. About why he left, how fucked up it all got, how much it hurt both of us. And then… yeah. We ended up back at his place. And it wasn’t just sex. It was—” I search for the right words, cheeks heating. “It was like coming home. Like everything finally clicked back into place.”
Will nods slowly. “He treat you right?”
The question is simple, but it carries weight. They both know Silas was our coach once—someone they respected, someone they looked up to on the field. The fallout hurt all of us in different ways.
“He did,” I say quietly. “He was…careful. Gentle. Kept checking in. Told me he loved me. That he never stopped.”
Ty whistles low. “Damn. Coach Gray pulling out the big guns.”
“He’s not Coach anymore,” I correct automatically. “He’s just Silas. And yeah…he meant it.”
Will studies me for another long second, then gives a small nod—like he’s satisfied with whatever he sees in my face. “Good. You deserve that.”
Ty slings an arm around my shoulders, squeezing hard enough to jostle me. “So what’s the plan? You two back together? Full-on boyfriends? Matching hoodies? Matching tattoos? Tell me there’s matching tattoos.”
I laugh despite myself, elbowing him in the ribs. “Slow down, gremlin. We’re…figuring it out. He wants to do it right this time—no secrets, no hiding. I’m going back over tonight. Mexican food. Fried ice cream. Probably more talking. Probably more…everything else.”
Ty waggles his eyebrows. “Gross. I don’t really need the details, but I love it.”
Will rolls his eyes, but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his mouth. “Just…be careful, okay? Not with him—with you. You’ve worked hard to get steady again. Don’t let anyone—not even Silas—knock you off balance.”
I meet his gaze. “I won’t. Promise.”
Ty squeezes my shoulder one more time before letting go. “Good. Because if he hurts you again, I’m not above keying his car. Or leaving passive-aggressive notes on his windshield. Or both.”
“Noted,” I say dryly. “But I don’t think it’s gonna come to that.”
Will stands, stretching, and heads toward the broom closet. “I’m cleaning up your cereal crime scene before the ants move in. You two owe me.”
Ty grins. “I’ll Venmo you for emotional damages.”
I watch them bicker—Ty grabbing the broom from Will’s hand, Will snatching it back—and something warm and steady settles in my chest.
These two idiots have seen me at my absolute worst. They dragged me out of bed when I couldn’t get up, listened to me cry in the shower, fed me pizza at 3 a.m. when the grief hit hardest. They never once made me feel like I was too much or too broken.
And now they’re standing here, ready to tease me into the ground or defend me to the death—whatever I need.
I finish my coffee, set the mug in the sink, and push off the counter.
“I’m gonna shower,” I say. “Then I’ve got class. And tonight…I’m going back.”
Ty salutes me with the broom handle. “Go get your man, Romeo.”
Will just gives me a small, steady nod. “Text us if you need anything. Anytime.”
“I will,” I promise.
And for the first time in a long time, I mean it without reservation.
I head down the hall, already thinking about tonight—Mexican food, fried ice cream, Silas’s arms around me again.
The apartment behind me is noisy with Ty and Will arguing over who’s sweeping properly.
It’s chaotic. It’s ridiculous. It’s home.
And tonight, I get to go back to another one. I smile the whole way to the bathroom.
The takeout bagis warm against my hip as I climb the stairs to Silas’s apartment. Mexican from the little place on Woodward—carne asada tacos, extra guac, street corn that’s probably already congealing—and two fried ice cream cups tucked in the bottom like contraband.
