“You think I don’t see it?” His voice rises, simmering with barely checked anger. “Men like him—charming when they want something, cruel when they don’t get it. That’s who he is. That’s who Dad was.”
My pulse hammers in my ears. I shake my head hard, eyes burning. “You’re wrong about him.”
Silas doesn’t let up. “I’m not wrong. He’s dangerous, Lee. He’ll tear you apart.”
I want to shout back, to fight him on every word, but my throat locks. Because the truth is tangled somewhere in the shadows I don’t dare drag into the light.
Phoenixisrough. His hands grip hard. His words bite. His kisses feel like a brand. But afterward, he is careful with me. He doesn’t leave me shattered. He puts me back together with quiet touches, with patience, with a gentleness that steals my breath. He waits until I feel whole again before leaving me.
Dad never did that. Dad left nothing but broken pieces.
But I can’t say that to Silas. He wouldn’t understand. Also, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about my budding sex life. So I just press the words down, bury them under the weight of my heartbeat, and say the only thing I can.
“You’re wrong,” I repeat, softer this time, but steady. “He’s not like Dad.”
Silas shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but he doesn’t push further. His silence after feels worse than the arguing, thick and suffocating.
I turn my face back to the window, watching the city streak by in fractured light, and cling to the thought I can’t voice:Phoenix isn’t like him. Not even close.
The rest of the drive is thick with unsaid words. By the time we reach my apartment, I’m half ready to crawl out of my skin.
Silas doesn’t just pull up to drop me off he parks, kills the engine, and unbuckles.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, though the protest is weak, half-hearted.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he replies, tone final. “Not when you’re hurt. Not with him circling around you.”
I grit my teeth. Circling. That’s how he sees Phoenix as a predator, waiting. He doesn’t see the steadying hand Phoenix offered at the hospital, the way his voice softened when he told me to call once I was home.
But again, I don’t argue. I just let him shoulder his way inside, filling the space like he always does. The apartment feels smaller with Silas in it, like the air itself rearranges around him. He rifles through my kitchen cabinets, finds a blanket in the hall closet, sets his phone on the coffee table—all with the restless efficiency of someone determined to protect me.
I limp to my bedroom, exhaustion dragging at my bones. The moment I lie down, though, my mind refuses to quiet. The shadows on the ceiling shift restlessly, mirroring the churn in my chest.
Through the thin walls, I hear Silas settle on the couch. The rustle of fabric, the creak of cushions, then the slow rhythm of his breathing as it eases into sleep. I wait until it’s steady. Until I’m sure. Then I reach for my phone.
The glow lights up the dark room, bright against my face. My thumb hovers over Phoenix’s name, my pulse leaping at the sight of it. I shouldn’t. If Silas knew…
But I need to.
The line only rings once before he answers. “Lee, hey.”
My eyes close, relief washing through me in a wave so strong it nearly drowns me. Just hearing his voice, rough with sleep, weighted with concern—it steadies me in a way nothing else does.
“I’m home,” I whisper, glancing toward the closed door. “Resting.”
There’s a pause, then a quiet exhale. “Good.”
The silence between us hums, warm and alive, so different from the silence with Silas.
“Hey...” Phoenix says carefully, “I’m sorry about the whole thing with your brother. I just didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”
My heart squeezes from his shaky voice. “Silas can be... a little protective of me. Big brothers, ya know? It’s okay. He was just worried.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Phoenix asks, voice softer now, low like it’s meant only for me.
I swallow, my chest loosening just enough to let the truth slip through. “I will be.”
“I’ll stop by after practice tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”
