Page 90 of Cold Front
But wanting him was different than knowing how to be with him.
I thought about that night on the Ferris wheel, when he’d asked if I would ever tell anyone about us. I thought about how easily I’d brushed it off, telling him it wasn’t anyone’s business. I thought about the way he looked at me when I called him my roommate in front of my old teammate, the hurt he’d tried to hide.
I thought about the future, the one I kept avoiding.
If I kept pretending we were nothing in public, what did that mean for us? What did that mean for him? Eli wasn’t someone who could live in the shadows. He’d already been trapped in a relationship that made him feel like he had to walk on eggshells. And now, even if I’d never meant to, I was making him feel like he had to hide again.
The worst part was that I wasn’t sure I could stop.
My chest ached with the weight of it all.
I forced myself to look at him. Eli’s expression was guarded, his jaw tight, like he was bracing for disappointment. I hated how I’d put that look on his face. Hated that he was expecting less from me. And maybe the worst part was that I didn’t know if he was wrong to expect it.
But I knew one thing.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Eli let out a slow breath, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I thought I’d said the right thing. That it would be enough. But then he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips, and I knew—I already had.
“That’s the thing, Niall.” His voice was quiet, but it cut through me like a blade. “You don’t want to lose me, but you don’t want to claim me either.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Eli stood, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for some big announcement. I don’t need you to shout it from the rooftops. But I need... something.” He turned to me then, his gaze heavy, like he was asking me to step up finally.
And I wanted to. I really fucking did.
But the fear was there, thick and suffocating.
“I—”
My mouth opened. Closed. I was drowning in my own silence, and Eli was watching me sink.
He let out a breath that said he already knew I wouldn’t have the right answer. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”
Something cracked in my chest. “Eli?—”
“I can’t do this again.” His voice was raw, like he hated saying it as much as I hated hearing it. He swallowed hard. “I can’t go back to feeling like someone’s secret. Like I’m something to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not—” I stopped myself, shaking my head. I wasn’t ashamed of Eli. I was ashamed of myself. Of how fucking terrified I was.
Eli just stared at me, waiting. Giving me the chance to say something—anything—that would make this right.
But I didn’t know how.
The silence stretched, brittle and sharp, and then Eli nodded, like he had his answer.
He got up. “I should go.”
My stomach dropped. “Eli, don’t—”Please don’t leave me!
Without another word, he walked toward his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
Not slamming it. Not making a scene.
Just… shutting me out.
And I stood there, my pulse roaring in my ears, staring at the empty space he’d left behind.
