Page 100 of Puck Me Back to Life

Neither of us speaks immediately. The silence isn't uncomfortable. It's cautious. Like Ash is trying to figure out the safest way to approach a wounded animal.

I hear the rustle of his jacket. Then warmth settles against the back of my neck.

His hand. His fingers curl gently where my neck meets my shoulders, and his thumb brushes slow circles against my skin.

The simple touch pulls my attention away from the thoughts threatening to drown me.

“Hey.” His voice is quieter than I've ever heard it.

Not commanding or teasing, just...gentle.

I don't lift my head. I don't think I can.

Ash shifts closer until I can feel him looking at me. “Kai.”

I force my eyes open. Slowly I turn my head just enough to meet his gaze.

His expression catches me off guard. His eyebrows are furrowed, and a few strands of black hair have fallen into his eyes. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Home. The word sends another wave of panic through me. If I go home, the apartment will be silent. The silence will become memories. The memories will become William.

My breathing begins to quicken again.

“I...” My voice cracks. “I can't.”

My hands are shaking now. “I can't...” I swallow hard. “I can't handle the silence.”

The confession hangs between us. Humiliating. Pathetic.

Ash's thumb never stops moving. “You don't have to.”

I blink. He says it so simply. As though there was never another option.

“I'm taking you to my place,” he says.

I stare at him. “You don't have to⁠—”

“I'm taking you to my place.” His words are stern. Final. Like, he knows I'm two seconds away from arguing with him.

For the first time since Coach said Noah's name, a tiny part of my brain unclenches.

I nod. “Okay.”

“Good.” His hand stays exactly where it is while he starts the engine.

He doesn't rush to drive away. He waits until my breathing evens out just enough that I don't look like I'm about to pass out. Only then does he pull out of the parking lot.

The drive is quiet. The radio stays off. Traffic hums around us. Every few minutes Ash says something. Not to start a conversation. Just enough to keep me anchored.

“Breathe.”

I do.

“Good.”

A few blocks later— “You're doing okay.”

I'm not, but hearing him say it makes me want to try.