It feels grounding.
It feels like something I recognize.
And when he notices, when his fingers slow just slightly, when his hand slides down to the back of my neck and he presses a soft, lingering kiss there, I feel it.
That spark again.
That connection. That reminder. But it doesn’t hold. Because just as quickly, it shifts back.
Careful.
Measured.
Controlled.
And I can’t ignore it anymore.
“Are you guys going to your game this weekend?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend, but it still cuts through the room.
Jackson stills slightly beside me.
Zach’s hand pauses in my hair.
Elijah’s voice on the phone goes silent.
“We need to stay here and look after you,” Jackson says after a second.
Something in me tightens.
“No.”
The word comes out sharper than I expect.
He frowns slightly. “Sweetheart—”
“No,” I repeat, more firmly this time, turning to look at him. “How long has it been since you’ve played?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s the point,” I say, my frustration starting to rise now, mixing with everything else sitting under the surface. “You’re not talking about it because you know what you’re doing.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“I’m not throwing anything away.”
“You are,” I push, the words coming faster now, stronger, because I can feel it, I can feel myself slipping into that same place again where everything revolves around what happened to me and nothing else is allowed to exist outside of it. “You’re putting everything on hold like I’m not here. Like I didn’t make it out of that. Like I’m still there.”
The room goes quieter.
Zach’s hand drops from my hair.
Elijah ends the call.
“I’m here,” I continue, my voice shaking slightly now, but I don’t stop. “You found me. I’m okay. I need to move forward from this, and I can’t do that if everything around me is frozen.”
“We’re not frozen,” Elijah says, his voice low, controlled.
It makes something in my chest tighten.
