Page 101 of Ugly Truths
I move to his tie next, carefully loosening it and sliding it over his head. The silk slips through my fingers. Then I’m ontothe buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. When it hangs open, I slide it down his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I unbuckle his belt and tug his pants down. He steps out of them to stand in just his boxer briefs.
Crouching down to slide his briefs off, I tap the side of one leg. He lifts it, then the other, before they’re on the floor, too. Rising to my full height, I meet his gaze again. The way he’s watching me is like he’s waiting for me to tell him what to do next.
With a hand on his chest, I stand on my toes to press a tender kiss to his mouth. “Go ahead,” I whisper against him, nodding toward the warm cascade of water. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He exhales a shaky breath that feels like a small victory and steps past the glass door and into the shower. The muscles in his back seize as the water hits him before melting with the droplets that run down his skin.
Quickly shedding my own clothes, I let my hair fall loose from its ponytail and follow him. The steam wraps around my limbs, easing the tension in my own muscles. Silas stands with his back to me, the water tracing the hard lines of his body.
Taking a small step forward, I place a hand on his back. When he doesn’t react, I slowly wrap my arms around him from behind, resting my palms flat against his chest and stomach. The side of my face presses lightly against the wet skin between his shoulder blades.
He stiffens beneath my touch, locking up as though he’s bracing for something. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but I don’t loosen my hold. I press closer, letting the warmth of the water and him surround me.
Our relationship has always been a force of nature that burned hotter than it ever soothed. Though he doesn’t believe it, it’s always been Silas leading us through those fires, forging ahead while I’ve done everything I can just to keep pace. How do you offer comfort to someone who’s never waited for anyone? Who’s carved his own path through every storm?
I just want to meet him where he is. To know I see it. I seehim.
“Let me in.” My voice is barely audible over the steady hum of the water. I press a kiss to his shoulder, letting the words linger there. “Please.”
I feel his inhale stutter against my palms. Instead of pushing for an answer, I let my hands glide over his chest comfortingly.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “I don’t regret it.”
I nod against him, my fingers tracing soothing patterns against his skin. “That’s understandable.”
“He knew—” Silas sucks in a sharp breath, “—he knew about Martin assaulting Natalie.”
The confession ripples through me.
I take a slow breath, forcing out the rage that threatens to rise. “That fucking asshole,” I say. It’s all I can manage.
Silas's hands curl into fists at his sides, the muscles in his forearms straining. Then, suddenly, he pulls away. The rejection stings. My arms drop to my sides as he turns to face me, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might shatter.
Finally, he exhales. “The second I realized he would never change…” He trails off, his eyes distant, focused on some invisible point beyond me. “Every good emotion I ever felt toward him just flipped off. Like a switch.”
My throat tightens.
“I enjoyed the rest of it,” he continues, his voice dipping lower. “Watching him come to terms with the fact that there was no way out. No deal he could make. Nothing to save him.” He pauses, his gaze snapping back to mine. “Ilovedit.”
The bitterness of his confession is so palpable, I can taste it. “But I'm worried about other things now,” he whispers.
I tilt my head slightly, my heart pounding. “What other things?” I ask.
His gaze drops to the floor. This time, he doesn’t pull away when I step closer.
“What this means for me.” The emotion begins unraveling in his eyes. “What if I end up just like him?”
Silas's voice cracks on the last word, and it steals my breath because he believes it. Sees it in his future like it’s written in stone. Even after everything.All of the sacrifices he’s made and the good he’s done. The way he cares so deeply about people, his family, and me. Hell, he shouldalreadybe just like William. And yet, he’s standing here after making an impossible decision today because it’s what was necessary and right.
Without hesitation, I reach up and cup his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing gently over the stubble on his cheekbones. “You’re not him.” The anger is almost as strong as my conviction. “You’re nothing like him.”
Silas tries to look away, but I hold him there. “You’re good, Silas,” I whisper. “You’re good because of how much you love Natalie and Davey. Because no matter how hard it is to get along with Jeremy, you don’t want him hurt.”
His chest rises and falls unevenly beneath my own. I don’t stop. “You know what William did is wrong, and you want to fix it. And, despite everything I’ve done to hurt you, you’re trying to forgive me.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away, threading my fingers through his wet hair. “You’re good, Silas,” I repeat. “And if there ever comes a time when you’re not, I’ll tell you. I’ll help you.”
Only when his hand settles on my waist and he begins to lean into me do I angle his face towards mine and kiss him. It's a soft, quiet question, and he answers. Silas’s hands explore my body with more care than urgency, like he’s reacquainting himself with every inch of skin. Water flows over our shoulders and between our chests, a steady rhythm that seems to slow everything down around us.
