My chest tightens. “And?”
“And it didn’t.” His mouth twists. “He walked out exactly the way he always does. Angry and small, already rewriting the story in his head so he’s still the hero and the victim at the same time.” A beat passes. “And I was left holding the same ache, with the same fucking hole in my chest.”
There it is: The real win, and the real loss. I slide my good hand up his spine, feeling the tension there, the coiled restraint in every muscle. “Hey. Come here.”
“I am here.”
“No. Comewithme.”
He goes still, then moves—carefully—until he’s half on top of me, my sling accommodated, my body supported rather than pinned. His weight is solid, his eyes tell me he’s present. I kiss the spot just below his jaw, where his pulse jumps.
“You didn’t lose.” I keep my voice soft but not filled with sympathy. He loves me, but I don’t want to be punched in the face for pitying my boyfriend.
“I know.”
“And it wasn’t pointless.”
Another beat of silence. “I know that too. But…”
“But it didn’t fix the original wound,” I finish for him.
His breath shudders. “No.”
We sit there for a moment, the truth hanging between us, not sharp but heavy as fuck. Then Artemis surprises me by rolling slightly onto his side, propping himself up so he can see my face.
“This isn’t about him anymore. It can’t be. I won’t let it be.” Something in his tone makes my stomach flip. Not fear… but maybeintention.
“Okay?”
He studies me like he’s memorizing a map. “You’ve been spiraling. While you were helping prop me up.”
I snort. “Subtle.”
“You think I didn’t notice?” His thumb brushes my cheek. “You’re restless. You haven’t finished a single assignment all week. You keep pretending your shoulder is fine so you don’t have to sit with what it might mean.”
I grimace. “Ouch.”
“Xavi.Duende.” His voice gentles. “Look at me.”
I do.
“You are not hockey.” His voice is firm. “Youplayhockey. Exceptionally and even beautifully. But that isn’t the axis the rest of you spins on.”
I swallow. “It feels like it is.”
“I know.” He rests his forehead against mine again. “Trust me, I know. That’s why I need you to hear this from me, not from some future version of yourself who’s already lost it.”
My heart kicks hard.
“Rooms settle when you walk into them. People soften. You make things feel possible just by being kind in a way that isn’t performative. You notice who’s left out. You build belonging without even trying.” His mouth curves, faint but real. “Do you have any idea what that’s like to grow up without?”
I shake my head, throat tight.
“I chased power because I didn’t know how to chasethat.” His admission whooshes out of him on a hot breath. “Warmth. Safety. A place to land.” His fingers curl slightly in my shirt. “Then you showed up and did it accidentally.”
A laugh breaks out of me, wet around the edges. “Not to brag, but accidentally is kind of my brand.” The joke tries to soften it, but I don’t fully let it. Instead, I let the truth stay heavy between us.
He smiles properly this time. It’s a real one, his eyes say so. “Exactly.”
