Page 21 of Wrap Around
Pulling in a breath and saying a silent prayer that the tiny bottle of liquid courage kicks in soon, I make myself move.
I step up beside him.
"Kind of nice that it's unseasonably warm out here," I say cordially.
Silas huffs a laugh. "We're all wearing two pairs of thermals under these onesies," he admits. "And I can't feel my fingertips."
"I'm pretty sure it was sleeting last year," I say.
"Yay global warming?" Silas questions sarcastically.
"I'm surprised Addy isn't freezing."
"As long as she keeps moving, she doesn't seem to feel the cold," he says, chuckling.
We walk in silence for a while. Until Silas nudges me lightly with his elbow. I flinch, then notice he's holding something out to me. A lollipop.
Watermelon. My favorite.
It feels like a peace offering. I don't know how to feel about that, but I take it, because I'm determined to try.
I glance sideways at him. His face is soft in the glow of the porch lights, shadows catching the slight darkness under his eyes. He's grown his facial hair out a little. It makes him look older, more distinguished. I'm not sure how I'd feel about a full beard on him, but this is nice.
Not that it matters what he looks like. That's my sister's business. I put the lollipop in my mouth and roll it around my tongue for a bit.
"I, uh, talked to Coach yesterday," I say finally, the words sticking a little on the way out.
Silas looks over, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Oh yeah?"
"I'd been expecting it. He hasn't ripped into me since Abbotsford…" My voice trails off, not wanting to bring up what happened at that game. I don't know how to apologize for that or explain what got into me. "He told me if I don't get my shit together, I'll lose my–"
"I won't let them kick you off the team," Silas cuts in suddenly.
I blink, confused.
He looks stern and serious. "I told Coach, if someone has to go, it should be me. Not you."
I don't know what to do with that. It sits heavy in my stomach like a weight. Like something that could drag me down. I don't know what it means. Why?
"I told you, Gideon," he says, his voice low. "I'm not here to make your life miserable. Or take anything from you." He glances away, towards the street where Lily and Adaline are chatting with another family dressed in similar costumes. "I just… I wanted to talk to you," he says. "To see you again, to explain, I–" He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. "I know it's stupid to hope anything could ever be like it was ever again. But I… I miss you." He looks away, angling his chin up and looking up at the darkening sky, opening his eyes wide like the cold air might dry away the moisture gathered there.
I want to run away. I want to pull him into my arms and hold him. I want to tell him I miss him, too. That I never stopped. And at the same time, I want to wrap my hands around his throat and shake him, asking him why and how could he do that to me.
Silas makes a brittle, broken sound under his breath, an unamused laugh or an attempt to cover a sob. "I see now that you don't feel the same way," he says. "And that's okay. I get it, I do. I just wish I could–"
He cuts himself off again, staring hard at the ground.
It feels like something is clawing its way up my throat. "Wish you could what?" I push, my voice rough.
Silas lifts his head again, meeting my eyes with a sad, resolute smile.
"It's nothing," he says.
But it's not nothing. It's written all over him. In the lines on his face that don't belong to a twenty-one year old man. In the defeated curve of his shoulders. In the way he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.
"I'm down to try and work together," he says. "If you are."
And just like that, the wall slams back down between us. But this time, it's him that puts it up instead of me. Out of fear or anger? I don't know.
