Chapter 9 Chapter 9
Her words sliced through me with a precision that only someone close to me could achieve.
I inhaled slowly. “You can believe what you want.”
“Oh, I do,” she said. “And so does everyone else.”
She straightened and turned to walk away.
But then the cafeteria doors opened again.
Kylen walked in.
The breath in the room halted.
He spotted us immediately. His jaw tightened. His eyes found Lilibeth first. Then me. Then the entire room that had paused to witness the unfolding drama.
He moved toward us with measured steps.
Lilibeth smirked softly, as if already claiming victory.
Kylen stopped between us.
Lilibeth lifted her chin. “Here to defend her again.”
“Yes,” he said.
The cafeteria filled with a wave of gasps.
Lilibeth’s expression broke for half a second. Shock. Hurt. Rage. It all flickered and disappeared, but I saw it.
Kylen turned to me.
“Can we talk,” he said.
“Not right now,” I whispered.
He nodded once, but it was not acceptance. It was determination held back.
He looked around at the staring faces and addressed the room.
“Stop talking about her. Stop spreading lies. Stop acting like you know anything about what happened.”
His voice cut through the air with a force that stilled even the nearest tables.
“And stop recording her without permission,” he added.
Heads lowered. Phones slipped into pockets.
He looked back at Lilibeth. Something cold darkened his eyes.
“Enough,” he said.
Lilibeth swallowed hard, her composure slipping again before she walked out of the cafeteria with stiff steps and burning cheeks.
Kylen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at me with a quiet pain that tugged at something deep in my chest.
“I am not letting you drown,” he said. “Even if you hate me for it.”
He left before I could respond.
Tessa sank into her seat. “Well. That was something.”
My hands trembled slightly. The coffee on the table grew cold.
When my classes were over, I walked back toward my aunt’s house. Rain began to fall just as I reached the street corner. Soft and steady, then heavier. Thunder murmured somewhere in the distance.
I stood under a tree for shelter.
A message buzzed in my pocket.
Kylen.
Please. Meet me at the rink. Just talk to me.
I closed my eyes. I should not go. I knew that. But something in me ached with the need for clarity. Closure. Something.
The rain grew harder. My breath fogged in the cold.
I walked toward the rink.
The parking lot was mostly empty. Light glowed softly from the building’s entrance. When I stepped inside, the scent of ice and rubber hit me instantly. The sharpness of it settled in my lungs like a familiar tug.
Kylen stood at the far end of the hallway near the rink doors. His hair was damp from rain. His shoulders looked tense. His eyes found me the moment I entered.
He approached slowly.
“You came,” he said softly.
“Do not make this dramatic,” I replied.
He exhaled. “I need to say this without an audience.”
I nodded.
He led me to the rink. The ice was empty. The overhead lights cast a pale glow across its smooth surface. The cold air brushed against my cheeks.
He turned to me. His voice was quiet, but full.
“I care about you. More than I should. More than I expected. More than I am allowed to.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“I tried to stay away. I tried to hold on to something that had already ended. And I hurt you in the process.”
His eyes searched mine.
“I do not want to hurt you again. I want to protect you. I want to be better for you.”
“Kylen,” I whispered.
“And if you need time, I will give it. If you need distance, I will try. But do not think for a second that I will ever regret choosing you.”
My heart thudded painfully. The air felt too cold and too warm at the same time.
“You still think this will work,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “Because it is real.”
I looked away, struggling to breathe past the ache in my chest.
“You should hate me,” he said quietly.
“I do not,” I replied.
He stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.
“Can I touch you,” he asked.
My breath trembled. “Yes.”
His hand reached for mine. Warm. Steady. Gentle. Our fingers intertwined, and something in me loosened for the first time in days.
For a moment, the world shrank to the feel of his hand holding mine in the cold air.
Then the rink doors slammed open.
We both turned.
Lilibeth stood there.
Her mascara streaked. Her eyes wild. Her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. She stared at our joined hands, and something inside her shattered so clearly that the sound of it felt almost real.
The storm had only begun.